Bella's Curtains
by Odyssia
Summary: Stephanie has a problem that even Ranger seems unable to solve... Babe.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - **Greetings! This piece is an exercise for me – I want to see if I can write a story that is 20,000 words or less – and I thought I might post it to get your input. As always, I appreciate constructive criticism.

A Cupcake disclaimer - While Joe has a role to play in the plot, he will only be mentioned in passing, and he may or may not put in an appearance near the end – I haven't decided yet. I don't anticipate that he will be mistreated, but I don't guarantee anything. In other words, Cupcakes, please read at your own risk.

Warnings for smut and foul language. Also, this story won't be beta'd, so please excuse the errors you undoubtedly will see.

And, as always – I do not own the Plum Universe, and am only writing this for fun, not profit.

--

The alarm woke Stephanie at seven. She got up, and stumbled toward the kitchen, smelling coffee. A minor miracle had occurred – she had remembered to set up the coffee maker last night. She just forgot to put the coffee pot under the drip. Again.

Cursing, she mopped up the spilled coffee with a clean cloth, wrung the cloth into a mug, and took a sip. It was a bit linty, but it served its purpose. She stepped out of the kitchen and walked down the hall to the front door.

The newspaper had exploded all over the hydrangea. She stooped and picked it up, cursing the paper boy. Had she offended him in some unknown way? This was the third time this had happened this month. Once each section was retrieved, she turned back to the house. Her robe caught on a branch and lifted, revealing her bottom to the busy street. A quick tug righted the situation, but not before she received two wolf whistles and one marriage proposal.

She stomped back in the house, newspaper in a shambles under one arm, coffee mug in her hand. She hipped the door closed, and caught her robe in the jamb. Rather than open the door again, she decided to pull; there was a loud rip as the cloth gave, and she fell to the floor. The dregs of her coffee arched out of the cup and landed in a long, wet line along the hallway. The newspaper fluttered down upon it seconds later, soaking most of it up.

Stephanie opened her mouth to curse. Then she saw the living room. Every stick of furniture had been neatly stacked in the very centre of the room, one piece on top of each other, right up to the ceiling.

"Goddamn it!" she shouted. "Not again!"

She called Lula to help her set her living room to rights. Her friend arrived in half an hour, armed with a McDonald's bag.

"Dang," she said, taking in the tower of furniture. "The couch is on top this time. That's going to make things tricky, getting it down."

"I know." Stephanie already had her nose in the bag, looking for breakfast fries. She hoped the grease would help quash the nervous pain in her stomach. Everyone knew that grease was the perfect preventative measure for an ulcer.

They ate their breakfast on the front step, chatting about this and that, but not the reorganization of Stephanie's living room. Then, when the last crumb had been suctioned away, Lula retrieved the step ladder from the back hall, and Stephanie grabbed a kitchen chair.

"You know this ain't normal, all this furniture stacking itself like this," Lula grunted as they tugged the sofa down off the pile.

"It did occur to me," Stephanie replied dryly.

"I mean, look at the way this is stacked. That ugly ass seashell lamp is all that's holding up the coffee table. And the coffee table is holding up the couch."

Steph made a face. "I hate that lamp. It was _hers_."

"Hunh." The sofa was heavier than either woman anticipated, and nudged the coffee table as they tried to clear it from the pile. The table teetered on the afore-mentioned lamp, and fell down on the floor with a deafening thud. It sat for a moment, as if thinking about things, then crumpled in defeat. The lamp, which should have gone over with the table, remained where it was, delicate, defiant, and ugly.

"Oh well," Lula said, glancing at the remains of the table. "At least we don't have to carry it down now."

Steph sighed. The coffee table had been the one nice piece of furniture in a room full of hand-me-downs. A handsome, serviceable piece that she had been proud to call hers. Now it was kindling. She stepped off the chair, and quickly compensated as she took up the slack on the couch. "Hurry up – this thing weighs a ton."

Lula stepped off the ladder, and the couch levelled itself out. "So when you gonna call someone to come in and take care of this here problem?"

Stephanie decided to play dumb. "What problem?"

She received an incredulous look for an answer. "What problem? You got invisible Houdini's stacking your furniture for you in the middle of the night. I'm telling you, girl – something ain't right in this house."

They set the couch in front of the bay window. Stephanie wiped her brow. "And whom I gonna call?" she asked. "An exterminator? Trust me, Lula – if I knew someone who could deal with this kind of problem, I'd have them here in a heartbeat."

Lula fell uncharacteristically silent, and waited until they had cleared away the coffee table remains before saying, "I think we both know who you can call."

Steph looked at her, frowning – and then she figured it out. She jumped on the chair, and reached for the sea shell lamp. "No way."

"Come on – you know he'll help you. You just say the word, and that man will be here in a flash."

Steph shook her head enthusiastically. "He won't come. We haven't talked in three years, not since… Well, you know."

Lula actually looked sympathetic, a rare feat for Lula, and it only made Stephanie feel worse. She looked away from her friend, and saw she was holding the sea shell lamp. A wave of anger rushed through her. She threw the lamp down to the ground. It bounced across the hardwood floor four times, before righting itself next to the sofa, perfectly sound.

Lula pointed at the lamp. "See? Now that ain't right. I tell you, this house is spook-ass freaky. No way I'd spend the night here. I get the heebie-jeebies just thinking about you living here."

"I've got no place else to go," she said. With her salary, she couldn't afford a decent rental. She couldn't sell, because technically, she didn't own the place yet. None of her friends had room for her; and there was no way in hell she was going to live with her mother.

Slowly, they returned each object to its rightful place, including the sea shell lamp, which went on the side table next to the sofa in the bay window… right where it had landed after she had dropped it.

"Thanks for your help," Steph said.

Lula gave her a hard look in return. Sympathy followed by seriousness was never a good thing to see from Lula, and it immediately made Stephanie nervous.

"Listen, girlfriend," Lula said. "You know I love you – but I ain't coming to help you move anymore furniture; not unless it's to help you move on out of here."

"I wish I could. But until things improve, I'm kinda… stuck here."

"You still at the button factory? You haven't given that shit up yet? Come on down to the office with me. We'll blackmail Vinnie's greasy ass, and have you hunting FTAs in no time."

She shook her head. "No thanks. I'm done with that. It's kind of nice, actually, not having to worry about rolling in garbage, or wonder which crazy will come after me next. You know I've had the same car for over two and a half years? No one wants to torch your car when you work at the button factory. No, things are good." She paused, remembering what they had just done here. "They'll get better," she amended.

"Yeah," Lula said, sounding not the least bit convinced at Steph's optimism. She looked at the living room as she added, "Sure." And she left.

Steph hurried through her hair and makeup routine, and dashed out the door. Her car, geriatric but usually trusty, would not start. Her dad collected her in his cab, and dropped her off at work. She was forty-five minutes late, an event guaranteed to make a hellish job on the production line that much more entertaining.

She worked overtime to make up for the late arrival, and caught a bus home. She dragged herself up the front stairs. She just wanted a beer, a bed, and the end to a rotten day.

It turned out that she would get none of those things. The living room furniture was stacked up to the ceiling again. So was all the dining room furniture, the bedroom furniture, the guest room furniture... Even the kitchen chairs were piled up, one on top of the other, with the kitchen table balanced precariously on top.

She knew she was in trouble. Without Lula's help, she was never going to get her house in order again – none of her other friends were sturdy enough to haul the heavy stuff down from the ceiling.

The fridge, fortunately, was still where she left it, its contents intact. There was no beer, but there was a jar of peanut butter. Stephanie found a spoon, and went to sit on the front step, eating the peanut butter, wishing she had some olives.

Normally, Stephanie was happy to deny any problems she had. It was like a little mantra that she repeated in times of stress – deny, deny, deny, and maybe the problem would go away. While her margin of success in this area was limited, she had lucked out enough times to remain faithful to this particularly philosophy. It was what had kept her in this house for so long.

Denial didn't seem to be working out particularly well in this case.

She set down the jar of peanut butter, and reached into her pocket for her phone. She cradled it in her hands for awhile. She hadn't called the number in years, though she still had it on speed dial. For a moment she actually toyed with the idea of calling him, but she gave up that thought in a hurry. It wasn't like he could actually help her, even if he felt so inclined. This type of problem wasn't his specialty. It wasn't anyone's specialty, as far as she knew. So there was no point in calling him. No point at all.

She thought of her living room, and the sea shell lamp. Then, to her horror, she saw her finger press the number and hit send. Immediately she heard a ring through the phone's tiny speaker. She ended the call before someone could answer, and threw the phone in the bush. What in the hell had possessed her to do that? She left the phone right where it was, afraid that she might just try calling him again.

She sat outside for another hour, until the air grew chill and the peanut butter ran out. Inside, the towers of furniture cast odd shadows in the lamp light. She sighed as she stared at them. She didn't often feel helpless, but she did right then. She knew Lula was right – she had to get out of this house. But like she had told her friend, she really had nowhere else to go.

In her bedroom, her mattress was on the floor, the bed frame on the ceiling, the rest of the furniture sandwiched in between. She grabbed a blanket from the linen closet, and went to sleep in her car.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N – **Thank you for your feedback, everyone! J

--

Stephanie woke up to a strange tapping sound. Her eyes creaked open. She wondered where she was. She was cramped, and there was a pain in her back, which she discovered was the result of lying on top of a seatbelt. Then she remembered. The house. The furniture. Gah.

She sat up slowly, and massaged the sore spot. Then she rubbed her neck; it was tingling. She heard the tapping again, and looked around for the source of the sound.

Ranger stared at her through one of the car windows.

"Aaahh!" She jumped, and banged her head on the roof of the car. "Ow!"

He actually sighed; she could see his chest rise and fall. He opened the car door, and yanked her out.

She had not seen him since he had moved to Miami almost three years ago, and to see him now was a shock to her system. He looked just the same, she discovered, as she looked him up and down, mouth agape. Long dark hair held back in a ponytail, painted on black shirt over chest and arm muscles just aching to burst through the cloth… His cargos emphasized lean hips and tight thighs; and his skin still looked like it had been poured from a Starbuck's cup.

She was surprised at how pleased – and how frightened – she was to see him. She rubbed her neck again, but the tingling feeling did not go away. In fact, it seemed to be spreading. For a cool spring morning, it sure seemed awfully warm.

She realized then that she was ogling him. She snapped her jaw shut, checked quickly for drool at the corners of her mouth, and guiltily brought her eyes up to his. She anticipated some sort of pithy comment for her blatant staring; but then that she saw his expression, and immediately she faltered. He had his blank face on; and even though he seemed at ease, she could sense tension in him. He looked incredibly tired. Clearly he didn't want to be here; some worn out sense of duty must have brought him to her house that morning, not… any other compulsion.

Seeing his unease only made her more aware of her own. She worried that she might throw up. Why was he here? What must he think of her after all this time? Did he still hate her?

She pulled herself together and asked, in a less than welcoming fashion, "What are you doing here?"

There was no hint of a smile. He merely leaned against the car, his arms folded across his chest. "Someone told me you needed help with a problem."

"What? Me? No way. Who told you that?"

He stared at her for several long, uncomfortable seconds. "I don't think I'll reveal my source at this point."

Stephanie scowled. Lula. She must have blabbed something to Tank when he stopped by the bond's office to pick up the Rangeman files. Then Tank, in a rare fit of speech, must have called Ranger. She wondered how explicit Lula had been about her 'problem', and if Ranger knew just what it was he was getting into.

"Tank was misinformed," she said.

This time there was a hint of smile at the corners of his mouth. "Then why were you sleeping in the car?"

It was a valid question, but she wasn't sure she wanted to give him a valid answer. "I just… got locked out of the house. And it was too late to call anyone."

He nodded. Then he pushed himself off the car, and made for her front door.

"No wait!" she cried, chasing after him. "You don't need to do anything! I've got a locksmith coming! He'll - "

It was too late. Ranger grasped the door handle, and the door pushed open upon his command. He looked back at her, not saying anything. He didn't seem especially surprised.

Steph wasn't much for blushing, but her cheeks felt unusually hot at that moment. "Well… How about that?"

He gave her a small, humourless smile. "How about that." And he stepped into her house with no hesitation, or invitation.

"Ranger, no! Please don't! It's messy in there! It's - "

He came to the living room entrance, and stopped. And stared.

She was too afraid to go in after him. She stood on the front porch, and wrung her hands. How was she going to explain the totem pole of living room furniture without sounding like a loony? "Ranger, I know how this looks, but I have an explanation."

"Let me guess," he said. "His mother taught you how to clean?" His tone was dry.

This wasn't the response she was expecting. She stepped into the house, and peered in the room. She stared in horror.

Everything was back where it was supposed to be. Even her coffee table had been fixed, and stood solidly in front of the sofa. But what shocked Stephanie most was how clean everything was. The walls were washed, the surfaces dusted. The hardwood sparkled. The living room was 'Burg housewife clean, and completely unrecognizable from the space she normally lived in.

She wished Ranger had seen the totem pole rather than this. It was clear from his comment what he thought of this unnatural tidiness. She was instantly furious.

"That… cow!" she exclaimed.

Ranger frowned. "Stephanie?"

She didn't answer him. Instead she darted to the dining room and kitchen. They were also back in order, their furniture sitting prettily, all dusted and waxed. Upstairs it was the same thing; the bedroom and guest room were set up and inviting. The entire house looked like it had been cleaned by house elves.

She stood in the hall, hands clenched tightly, teeth grinding. Her eyes darted back and forth rapidly, as if searching for something… or someone. She breathed heavily in anger.

"Stephanie?" Ranger was beside her, looking at her with concern. He peered into her bedroom, and the guest room, and even made a trip down the hall to examine the bathroom. He looked puzzled, not sure what it was he was supposed to be seeing.

Realizing how stupid she must have looked, she took a deep breath to calm herself. Already her head was repeating her favourite mantra – _Deny, deny, deny…_ She couldn't tell him the truth. She'd never see him again - not that she was likely to see him again anyway.

"I'm sorry," she said. She spoke slowly and carefully, trying to keep the tremor of anger out of her voice. "I just… can't believe I slept in my car when the front door was open the whole time. I feel like such an idiot." Her eyes could not leave the bed and its hospital corners. She snarled, and pounded a fist against the wall. "Idiot," she repeated.

Ranger did not respond. When she managed to tear her gaze away from the bed, she saw that he had taken a step away from her, and now stood there, a wary look in his eyes.

It was a look he had never given her before, even with all the stupid things she had done in the past. And it suddenly occurred to her that the easy going relationship they once had was gone.

The despair that descended upon her was overwhelming. She felt like crying.

His look immediately changed to one of genuine concern. "Stephanie?"

_Stephanie. _ Not Babe. She felt herself wilt even further. That above all sealed it for her; he no longer loved her.

It felt horrible, having her suspicions confirmed; all that time away had obviously done its work. Judging by the way he was looking at her now, he was no more comfortable with the situation than she was. She had to get rid of him, and fast. Once he was gone, she would run to the bakery and buy out their birthday cakes. Then she would come home, sit on the freshly ironed sheets, and eat each cake, one by one, until she fell into a sugar coma.

She gave him a sickly smile. "I'm fine. Just tired. Thanks for your help with… the door."

His blank face slammed back into place; he knew a dismissal when he heard one. "Sure," he said. He turned and went downstairs. She followed him, relief and regret echoing in her footsteps.

He paused at the front door, which was still open, and turned to look at her. He seemed about to say something, but the words never made it to his mouth. His look hardened. "You'll call Tank if you need anything."

It sounded more like an order than an offer, something that in the past would have set her on her hackles. But now she did not wish to debate the matter with him. "I will."

Ranger didn't say anything else. He nodded stiffly. Then he was moving down the front path at a good clip, as if he couldn't wait to hop into his shiny new Porsche, and drive away.

Stephanie couldn't watch him leave. She slowly closed the front door, felt it click as the latch slid home. She leaned her head against the cool wood, and sighed. The sigh was long, and defeated.

"I hate you," she whispered to the house.

The instant she said it, she sensed something change. There was no sound or movement; it felt more like a drop in air pressure, like riding an express elevator in a tall building. The air grew cold, and her skin erupted with goosebumps. There was an oppressive feeling in the air, a heaviness that made her afraid for the first time since this whole business began.

She turned around slowly. She approached her living room with trepidation, and couldn't keep the sigh of disappointment from escaping her when she saw what awaited her.

In the time that she made her declaration to the house, every piece of furniture in the living room had been turned upside down. They also appeared to be covered in some sort of brown fluid. It fell in fat, viscous drops to the once gleaming hardwood. Only the sea shell lamp remained upright and clean. The air was cloyingly sweet.

Stephanie tentatively extended a finger, and dipped it into a large puddle on the sofa. She sniffed it, then stuck her finger into her mouth. She hummed thoughtfully; it was maple syrup. She wondered if the rest of the house was covered in syrup too, and a hysterical laugh bubbled out of her, like a surprise burp.

A hand fell on her shoulder, making her scream. She whirled around, coming face to face with Ranger. But he wasn't looking at her. He stared at her living room, completely confounded.

"Babe… What the hell happened?"

She couldn't help herself. She smiled and laughed. Then she launched herself at him, and burst into tears.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N – **Thanks for all your comments! J.

--

"So do you want to tell me what's going on?" he asked.

They were sitting in the small diner where they had first met. Ranger held a coffee cup, and stared at her intently. Stephanie looked down at an empty, crumb speckled plate that used to be covered in donuts. The donuts had made her calmer, but now that Ranger wanted an explanation about what was going on in her house, she regretted eating all four of them. She wished she had saved at least one for the interrogation. Perhaps she could order some more…

"They're all out of donuts, Babe," he said immediately. "You want anything else to eat, it's going to be a salad."

She made a face; it had been awhile since anyone had performed ESP on her – or told her what she could eat. She slumped against the backrest, and began her tale.

"About two years ago, Joe's Grandma Bella died. Joe inherited her house. It was bigger and a little more up to date, so we decided to move in there, and rent the other place out." She paused to sip her coffee, and swallowed in a nervous way. "When we separated six months ago, Joe moved back to his old house, and I stayed in Bella's." She looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Did you know we - ?"

He nodded once, his face blank. Stephanie resisted the urge to sigh. Of course he knew. Of course he would have nothing to say about it.

"And was this when the trouble started?" Ranger asked.

She smiled sickly. "No, things were fine until… a month ago."

Ranger barely blinked. He just waited for her to continue.

"You probably know, Bella was a real bi… odd woman, and she didn't change much with death. She had a bunch of stipulations that Joe had to agree to before he was allowed to take over the house. He couldn't sell it for five years, or deed it over to anyone else. And she didn't want any changes made to the house for five years. She was very specific about this in her will; said she had put a lot of time and money into decorating the place, and she wanted it to remain that way. She said…"

"Her will said…" he corrected.

She sighed. "Her _will_ said, as far as she was concerned, the house was still hers, even though she was dead. In five years, we could do whatever we wanted to the place, but until those five years were up, we were guests in her house. And she said… she said she would know if we made any changes before the five years was over. And that if we made any changes, she would have something to say about it.

"Joe didn't believe any of it, of course. He never saw his grandma the way the rest of us saw her. He wasn't scared by her. He said if he wanted to paint the walls, he was going to paint the walls; if he wanted to replace the carpet and get rid of her ugly knick-knacks, then he would. When I told him that I thought we'd better do as she asked, he actually laughed at me. But I guess he saw how freaked out I was, because he left things pretty much as they were.

"Then, Joe moved out." She looked at the table, ignoring Ranger's heavy gaze. "I didn't do anything to the house at first, because I was… too distracted by other things. Then one day last month, I was looking at the curtains in the living room. They were this really thick, blood red velvet with a thick gold fringe - "

Ranger grimaced in the tiniest way. "Babe."

She laughed weakly. "I know. They were heavy and dark and hideous, and had this darkening liner put in them, so that when they were closed, there was no light in the room, no matter the time of day. They were obsviously expensive, but they made the room feel so… closed in. I don't think sunlight had shone in the room for years because of those curtains. So I took them down, and the room looked so much better. I felt better – lighter. I felt so good that I gathered up a bunch of her stuff, boxed it up along with the curtains, and donated it all to Goodwill."

Stephanie felt something warm touch her hand. She looked down, and saw that she was shaking, that some of the coffee from her mug had sloshed out. She set the mug down, and took the napkin Ranger offered her.

"When I came home," she continued softly, "I parked my car in the street. I remember looking up to the house before I got out. And I saw her."

Ranger was frowning. "Saw who, Babe?"

"Bella." Stephanie smiled and frowned in quick succession. "She was standing in the bay window, staring at me… and she looked royally pissed off."

There was silence for a moment, and then… "You saw Bella."

Stephanie was still shaken, remembering that day, and didn't immediately notice his tone. All she could see was Bella's face; how her features had been pinched with anger, the lines around her mouth accented strongly by the severe frown. How her eyes had glinted with rage, but had reflected no other life, no soul. How one curved and bent hand had suddenly appeared, pointer finger extended and aimed at her. How her lips had uttered one silent word: _ You._

"Babe? You okay?"

Ranger's voice took her away from that moment, and she shuddered. "How did she know? I mean, she's dead! There's no possible way she could have known that I recycled her ceramic cats and her four hundred pound curtains!" She leaned forward, and looked at Ranger pleadingly. "How did she know?"

Ranger looked impassive. She eventually fell back, disappointed that he didn't have any answers.

"What did you do? Once you saw her."

"I put the car in drive and got the hell out of there, that's what I did," she said. "I went to my mother's, and stayed there for a couple of days." Her voice trailed off; there was no need to tell him what fun that had been. She picked up her coffee mug, and drank quickly.

Ranger sat there, staring at her. "So you think Bella's haunting your house," he said eventually.

"I don't think – I know."

"Babe."

Stephanie put her coffee cup down. His incredulous tone did not escape her. "You don't believe me!"

"I do believe someone is doing something to your house," he said, "but I don't believe a ghost is responsible."

Her mouth fell open. "But… the living room! You saw it!"

"Yes. Someone has a weird sense of humour."

"They did that in less than ten seconds, while I was standing in the hall after you left!" she cried. "They did it without making a sound!" When he didn't respond, she said loudly, "What? You think _I_ poured maple syrup all over my furniture? You think I did that!?"

A young couple was staring at Stephanie, open mouthed. A quick glance from Ranger, however, and they were back to their meals, eating nervously. Then he looked at her, and immediately Stephanie felt the fight drain out of her. If she had had some food in front of her, she would have made herself busy with it too.

"Listen to me, Stephanie," he said quietly. "I don't believe in ghosts. I never have, and I never will."

"But - "

He raised a hand to quell her. "In my business, I've occasionally been asked to monitor buildings that the owners swore were haunted. Each 'haunting' was the result of human action. Trust me, these people know what they're doing. I've seen them do things that were very convincing – but we always caught them every time. Every single time."

"No live human could do _that_ to my living room in so short of time," she told him, her voice tight with anger. "And other things have happened too! You didn't see what the house looked like last night! I mean, jeez, I _saw_ her ghost!"

"I don't know what you saw, Babe, but it wasn't a ghost. I can promise you that."

She made a frustrated noise that was part growl and part shriek, and banged her hand on the table. Ranger immediately put his hand on top of hers. She looked at him, startled, and her breath caught when she saw how dark and intense his eyes were.

He slid his chair in closer to hers; his other hand went to the back of her neck, and he drew her close to him, so their foreheads were almost touching.

"I know you're upset, Babe," he whispered to her, his breath feathering her hair. "I know you're tired. I also know that you've probably held onto this a lot longer than you should have, because you've never asked for help when you needed it." He slid in a little closer, his hand leaving her neck so it could slide around her properly. His lips touched her cheek; she felt him smile against her skin. "It's nice to know that some things haven't changed."

She let out an unsteady breath. It felt so good to feel his arms around her again. In the past, whenever he held her, she always felt like she was in a bubble of safety, and now, three years later, it felt exactly the same. Lots of things felt the same, she realized, as a familiar twang of desire pulsed through her. His closeness was making her think thoughts that she believed were long dead. Ranger was right; some things hadn't changed.

But some things had. Since they had last seen each other, she had made some bad decisions, decisions that had changed who she was and how she perceived herself. And her perception of Ranger had changed too. Three years ago, she had called him Batman, because the things he did, the things he was capable of, seemed inhuman to her. His read on people and situations was uncanny. She trusted his judgment, and trusted him to keep her safe. She never once doubted him. But she did now.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that it wasn't Bella haunting her house. She wanted to believe it was someone playing a horrible series of jokes on her, some creep from her past who had bided his time to get his revenge. Her gut, her spidey-sense, however, told her Ranger was wrong. She didn't for one minute believe that live humans were behind the trouble in her house. She knew what she saw; she knew what she felt.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted. She didn't know what to do about _anything._

"I do." And he kissed her gently on the cheek.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N - **Thanks for your comments, everyone! J

--

Stephanie was disappointed to see that the culprit who cleaned up the stacked furniture earlier hadn't seen fit to tidy up the maple syrup. Fortunately, it was only the living room that was affected, and Ranger's Merry Men were making quick work of hauling the worse pieces out of the house to the dump.

"I don't know why she poured maple syrup all over everything," she said to no one in particular. "Most of this stuff was hers." She picked up a soaked crocheted doily, and threw it into a bin. It landed with a wet splat. She wiped her fingers on the seat of her jeans.

There was a crash from behind her, and an "Oops!" Hal stood over her coffee table, which had crumpled when he tried to pick it up. He looked guilty. "Sorry, Miss Plum!"

She didn't bother to correct him about her name. "Oh, don't worry about that – it was broken from before."

Lester came back in, and he and Hal started to manhandle her couch out of the room. "You're getting awfully sticky, beautiful," Lester said to her, grinning at the syrup on her butt. "Want me to help clean you off? Ranger's not the only one who's good in the shower, you know."

"You just volunteered for the night watch, Santos," Ranger said, coming up behind him. "You and Hal be here at midnight."

"Me? What'd I do?" Hal turned pale, like he did at the sight of blood. Maybe ghosts weren't his thing, either.

Ranger ignored him, and led Stephanie into the kitchen. Hector was on a ladder by the back door, installing a video camera. The camera was small, no more than a cord, and slid almost invisibly into the wall. Hector took a moment to smile at her and wave his arms disjointedly in the air, saying, "Ooooo..." Then he said something in Spanish and laughed.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. It seemed Ranger wasn't the only sceptic.

Ranger ignored Hector. "We're putting cameras in the living room, here, the upstairs hall, and your bedroom. They're going to be recording 24/7, so if you want privacy, go into the bathroom."

"Agreed." No changing in the bedroom – check.

"I'm also going to install sensors on all the doors and windows, and a couple of motion detectors. They'll trigger a silent alarm at Haywood only, so you won't here a klaxon – we want to take your intruder by surprise." He passed her a key fob; it looked like the one she used to have for his apartment. "This is for the door. Press once to alarm, twice to disarm. And try not to shoot this one, okay?"

She sneered at him, and pocketed the fob. "That should be easy, since I no longer own a gun."

His smile disappeared. He walked over and peered into her cookie jar. He seemed surprised to find only cookies in it. "Babe."

"What? I hated that thing. The only thing it was ever good for was killing people."

He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. He was wearing one gun on his hip, and probably had three or four more stashed away somewhere on his person. Clearly their views on gun control were very different.

He led her back to the hall, where Cal was mounting a small sensor near the ceiling. "EM detectors," Ranger explained. "They'll be throughout the house. They're designed to pick up weak electrical and magnetic waves, which some people say detect ghosts."

She looked at him. "But I thought you didn't believe in ghosts," she said.

"I don't," he said. "Anything they've detected in the past has always been traced back to a mechanical or natural source, so they're useful in that regard. Besides, they tend to make the client feel more comfortable."

"Speaking of the client," she said, as they made their way upstairs, "I don't know if I can afford - "

"No price, Babe."

She winced at his words. "Ranger…"

"No price," he repeated. "Besides, do you know how much money I've saved since you gave up bounty hunting? I'm actually making a profit at the Trenton branch now."

"Oh boy."

He sighed, and pulled her in close to him. "Don't worry about it, Babe. My men were growing soft. This is good training for them, working for you."

"Here's hoping I don't break too many of them," she sighed.

That earned her a kiss on the forehead. He shifted her a little so he was holding her against his side, one arm wrapped around her shoulders. She draped an arm around his waist, just for comfort. His grip tightened on her in response.

"We're going to install an infrared camera there," he said, gesturing to the end of the hall, "and one down in the living room." He then tapped a small rectangular device that had been placed on the wall. "Barometer. Detects changes in air pressure."

She couldn't help smiling. "For a guy who doesn't believe in ghosts, you sure seem to know how to hunt them."

"Like I said, I cover my bases." He glanced down at her, and slowly traced a finger along her cheek.

She swallowed. "And what should I be doing during all this?"

"Stick to your routine – don't change anything. We want the perpetrator to think that everything's fine. If he senses something's different, that'll end his 'haunting'."

"And that would be bad?" she asked innocently.

He smiled. "We want to catch him, Babe. Teach him it's not nice to play tricks on pretty ladies."

His tone was playful, but the look in his eyes was anything but. Stephanie was almost glad that it was Bella haunting her – any living person stupid enough to try it might just find themselves 'haunting' for real.

"And what if it isn't a person?" she asked.

"It will be," he said confidently.

Her free hand fluttered up, and landed on his chest; the muscles under her fingers flexed momentarily. "But let's just say... as a for instance..."

"Well... we'll be watching the whole time. I'll have men outside whenever you're home. All you have to do is call, and someone will be here. Nothing's going to happen to you."

That really didn't answer her question, but she let it go. "How long do you think this will take?" She didn't relish the idea of changing in her bathroom for the rest of her life, or having her eating habits monitored.

"Generally we solve these cases in less than three days."

"Oh. Okay."

Ranger frowned. He shifted her so she was standing in front of him. "If things get bad – if I find out something about your harasser that I don't like – I'm pulling you out of here and putting you in a safe house. And you won't argue your way out of this one."

She sighed. She had been expecting this. "Okay."

His brows shot up to his hairline. "Really?"

She gave him a little smile. "Really."

He still looked stunned. "You certainly are a lot more agreeable than I remember," he said.

She didn't find it as funny as he did. "I guess I've changed."

His amusement faded at her words. "I guess you have." He pulled her to him. "It makes me wonder what else I could get you to agree on…"

His lips found the flesh just below her ear, and she shuddered involuntarily. She had forgotten how much he liked to kiss_._ She pulled herself in tighter. He shoved a leg in between hers, and she breathed out, "Aah."

It had been over six months. If he kept this up, she would agree to almost anything.

He continued kissing her neck. "And are you happy with your changes?"

God, his body was hard – his chest, his arms, his legs, his… everything. "Some things are good," she said. "Other things aren't so good. Sometimes I miss the job and the excitement." She gasped as a certain part of him came in contact with a certain part of her. "I miss a lot of things."

"So do I," he murmured. He slid a hand up behind her head into the thick of her curls, and directed her mouth to his.

She hadn't forgotten how good he was at this. Her arms tightened around him, and she pressed herself against his thigh. He growled, and shoved her up against the wall, next to the barometer. "Babe," he said, before attacking her neck again. "I would never have asked you to change."

She immediately stiffened. "Do you think Joe asked me to change?"

A pause, in both his words and actions. "Didn't he?"

"No, Ranger." She pulled back so she could look at him properly. "I didn't change because of Joe. I changed because of _you_."

Ranger's brow furrowed. Then from downstairs there came a shout, a sudden staccato of steps, a crash – then a high-pitched scream.

Ranger had his gun drawn before he pulled away from her. "Stay here," he ordered.

"Like hell," she said, following him as he charged downstairs.

A box of broken, syrupy trinkets and crocheted pillows lay scattered in the hall and living room. Cal lay next to them, his ladder underneath him, his arm bent awkwardly. Lester was helping him up, Hector was swearing in both English and Spanish, and Hal stood with his back in the corner by the door, his gun drawn.

"What happened?" Ranger demanded.

"Lester knocked the fucking ladder over," Cal said. He winced as he stood up, cradling his arm; a bone stuck up through his skin and shirt. "Fuck."

"I didn't knock it over," Lester said. "Hal pushed me down."

Hal was shaking his head back and forth rapidly. "She had a knife… she had a knife…"

"Who had a knife?"

Hector, who hadn't stopped swearing, was yelling at Ranger now, and pointing down the hall.

"Take Stephanie outside," Ranger ordered. He then made his way toward the kitchen, gun at the ready.

Stephanie helped Lester sit Cal down on the front step. Hector stood on the lawn, muttering angrily. Hal just looked white, and still had his gun drawn. They all seemed a bit… stunned. Their eyes were wide, their pupils were large, and their faces were stony.

"What did you see?" she asked, suddenly afraid.

"I didn't see anything," Cal grumbled. "All I saw was the floor coming at me." He glared accusingly at Hal and Lester.

"I was pushed," Lester said, but he sounded like he wasn't sure.

"She had a knife," Hal repeated. "She was going to stab you. I pushed you out of the way."

"Who had a knife?" Stephanie asked.

"That old lady," Hal said. Hector said something, and Hal nodded. "I don't know where she came from. She tried to stab Lester, and then… I don't know."

"I think…" Lester said. "Maybe I saw something..."

Hector was speaking again, gesturing with his hands. It was a familiar action; it was the same one he had used when he had teased Stephanie earlier.

"No way," Cal said.

"It was, man," Hal said. He sounded utterly convinced. "It was, I swear."

"What?" Stephanie asked, frustrated that she couldn't understand Hector, though afraid she understood him all the same.

Ranger appeared in the doorway then, looking annoyed. "There's no one there," he said, "and no evidence that anyone was there. There's no way out but the back door, and the security chain was still in place."

"I saw her," Hal said. "We all saw her."

"I didn't see anyone," Cal said. "Man, can I go to the hospital yet, or do I have to drive myself?"

"In a minute," Ranger said. "I want an explanation first, and it better be good."

Everyone looked at Hal.

Stephanie saw him swallow nervously. "There was an old woman in the house. She was armed, and attempted to attack Santos."

"And where did she come from? The front door?"

"Uh, no – she just appeared, right in the middle of the living room."

"Unacceptable. She must have come in the door when you weren't looking."

"No, sir. I was facing the door the entire time. It was like she was suddenly there. She appeared between me and Santos."

Ranger turned to Lester. "And?"

Lester looked uncomfortable. "I don't know – I think I saw something out of the corner of my eye after I fell, but… It looked like legs. Little old lady legs." He looked embarrassed to admit it. "They were in support hose, and I saw the hem of a dress. They moved past me, down the hall into the kitchen."

Hector said something, to which Lester nodded. Ranger, however, shook his head. "No – unacceptable. People don't…" He looked over at Stephanie. "They don't do that."

"Don't do what?" she demanded.

Lester was the one to answer. "Hector says he saw her run into the kitchen and disappear through the back wall."

Ranger outwardly looked calm, but Stephanie could feel anger radiating off of him. "That did not happen."

Stephanie sighed. "Come on, Ranger – they saw Bella."

"No. They probably saw some friend of hers who came over to visit the house. Most likely they scared her half to death. I heard a woman scream. Didn't you?"

Hal immediately turned red. To their credit, his coworkers didn't say anything.

Stephanie found Ranger's denial suddenly infuriating. Ignoring him, she turned to the Merry Men and said, "It was a ghost you saw, wasn't it? A ghost of a little old Italian lady. She probably got pissed off when you tried to throw out her seashell lamp."

Hal went white. "Holy shit!" he shouted. He turned to Lester. "You were just about to junk that ugly thing when she appeared!"

She could see Ranger's eyes darken in anger. "There is no ghost in this house."

Stephanie frowned at him. "Ranger, why won't you - "

"There is no ghost," he said, his voice stern and scary. "This job is just like any other. Now you guys get back in the house, and finish it, or I'll be looking for someone who will."

Nobody moved. They all stared at Ranger. Stephanie had no idea where his anger and obstinance were coming from. "Ranger…" she said gently.

He looked at her, and she took a step back from the heat of his gaze. He blinked at that, and seemed to check himself. When he spoke again, he was significantly calmer.

"Hal, take Cal to the hospital and get his arm tended to."

Hal looked relieved. He helped Cal to his feet, and practically ran him to a waiting Rangeman SUV.

"Can I speak to you for a minute, Ranger?" Lester asked.

A look passed between the two; Stephanie immediately understood that she wasn't going to be invited to this conversation.

Ranger nodded. "I'll meet you inside," he said. He then reached out, and took hold of Stephanie's arm. She swallowed nervously; his grip was quite firm.

When Hector and Lester were back in the house, Ranger turned to her. His face was blank; she was looking at corporate Ranger. She really was a client after all.

"I apologize for earlier," he said. "I overreacted."

She gave him a weak smile. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. Clearly I frightened you and I…" He paused. "I'm not comfortable with that. I'm sorry I misplaced your trust."

"You didn't," she said immediately. "I trust you, Ranger. I always have."

His face lightened, which surprised her, for he was never one to show his emotions with any ease. His hold on her arm loosened. "Thank you," he murmured.

_But I don't understand why you don't believe us. _The words were on her tongue, but she hadn't the courage to utter them. She had felt the heat of his anger once today, and didn't see the need to feel it again.

"You and I need to have a discussion later."

"Huh?" Then she remembered – the hall; the things she said about changing. She mentally cringed. "Uhh…"

He smiled a tad, but there was little humor in it. "You're not getting out of this, Babe," he said. "You have some explaining to do."

He gave her a chaste peck on the cheek, nothing like the kiss from the hall. Then he went back in the house, leaving her to fret on her front lawn.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** - Thanks for your reviews, everyone! I hope you like this one - it gave me a little giggle as I wrote it. All the best, J.

--

When Stephanie was bothered by uncooperative FTAs, she found herself eating a lot of donuts. When she quit being a bounty hunter and started work at the button factory, she ate one or two Tastykakes with every meal for a week. The ghost business required McDonald's French fries; the fat made her sluggish, which prevented her from running away screaming.

Yes, every disaster in her life could be momentarily forgotten, as long as there was food. It was the only way to feel normal in subnormal situations. But when it came to relationship woes, it took more than just a Tastykake or a donut. Relationship issues required a special dose of beer, meatball subs, and birthday cake. Lots of birthday cake.

None of which she was going to get, because her bush was currently ringing.

Stephanie knelt to peer in her garden, and found the phone under a particularly rough branch. She answered. It was her mother.

"Where are you? It's five to six, and the pot roast is almost done."

She tried not to groan; she had lost track of the time. She opened her mouth to cancel. Then it occurred to her that if she was at her parents, her talk with Ranger could be delayed. If denial was a close friend, then avoidance was like a cousin. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

She went back inside to get her purse. It was quiet, but not peaceful; she felt that heaviness in the air again. Hector stood on the ladder, installing the EM sensors in the living room. He said something to her in Spanish, and shuddered.

"Yeah," she said. She didn't like being in the house so much either. She slowly went upstairs.

Ranger and Lester were behind the spare room's door, arguing in a civilized fashion. She grabbed her things from the bedroom. Back in the hall, she couldn't help but pause by the guest room door, and give a listen.

"You know she can't stay here."

"Santos…"

"Come on, man – there is something seriously up with this house. It's not right. Even you have to admit that you've felt something."

She heard what sounded like a sigh – it was hard to tell through the door. "We've dealt with this kind of shit before. There's always been a human connection, and I still believe that this is the case here – which means it would be a mistake to remove Stephanie from the house."

"So what are you going to do? Let her be attacked just to prove some point?"

A pause. "Watch what you say, Santos."

"Why? You aren't seeing reason. She could wind up getting really hurt."

"Not a chance. We'll nail this guy in a day, guaranteed."

"You're not listening, either. There is _no man_ to get."

"And if that's true, then Stephanie's in no danger."

There was silence; then Lester said, "Ranger, what is it that scares you most – discovering an enemy that you can't fight, or admitting that maybe there isn't anything you can do to help Steph this time?"

"What did you say?"

She took a step back from the door. Ranger's quiet fury was terrible.

If Lester backed away, one wouldn't know it by what he said next. "She's always been your weak spot, and I see that three years apart hasn't helped you much. You're letting her cloud your judgment - again."

She could just imagine him seething. "I think I've been away from this office for too long." Ranger's tone was dangerous.

"Maybe you have," was the unwise answer.

Stephanie sucked in some air. _Time to go, _she thought. She bolted down the stairs and out the door.

She forgot that her car still wasn't working. She didn't live far away from her parents, but even jogging the last block put her twenty minutes late. Her mother and grandmother were waiting for her at the front door.

"Why are you walking?" her mother asked. "Is your car still not working?"

Stephanie shook her head, breathing heavily. The run had nearly killed her. She leaned against the house and wheezed, "Sorry - I'm late – had some – workers at the – house."

They bustled into the dining room. "What kind of workers?" Grandma Mazur asked.

She hadn't been prepared to answer questions, so she said, "Exterminators."

"What?" her mother exclaimed. "Insects? In Bella's house? Are you sure? She was always so clean! What kind of bugs are they?"

Stephanie was going to say cockroaches, but didn't want to now. Her mother's insinuation was pretty clear, like Stephanie had turned the place into a bug infested hovel. But if she couldn't use cockroaches, what could she use? What insect didn't necessarily indicate an untidy environment?

"Earthworms," she blurted out. "There are tons of earthworms in the cellar. They're coming up the pipes and... flooding the bathroom."

This declaration was met with absolute silence, except from her father, who let a piece of meat fall out of his mouth before saying, "What?"

"Earthworms," her grandmother said. "How about that? I wonder what an earthworm infestation looks like."

Stephanie wondered that too. Hopefully she would never find out.

"So what are you going to do with all your worms?" Grandma Mazur asked.

"I'm not going to do anything with them. The exterminator is going to kill them."

Her father had recovered, and was back to clearing his plate. "Should sell them."

"Sell them? Who'd want a bunch of worms?"

"Sport fishermen," he said. "Pay big money for worms."

"That's a good idea," Grandma Mazur said. "You could raise them. You could build little worm farms, and sell them as pets."

"Stephanie is not raising worms for a living," her mother said. "What would the neighbours say? And besides, how does one raise a worm?"

Grandma Mazur contemplated this. "What do you suppose a worm eats?"

"Garbage," her father said.

"I thought they ate dirt."

"Nah – that's what they shit."

"Are you saying dirt is worm poo?"

"That's what I'm saying."

"That's crazy. Dirt can't be all worm poo. You don't know what you're talking about."

Her father stabbed a potato, and started muttering something about shoving Grandma Mazur six feet under a bunch of worm poo.

Grandma was thinking again. "Of course, probably a lot of people think dirt is worm poo. I bet you could sell the poo too. Just call it fertilizer. You'd be rich in no time."

Stephanie's head was spinning a little. This was starting to turn out like the cello incident. "I'm not raising worms, and I'm not selling worm poo."

"Of course you won't," her mother told her. "Didn't I say that already? Why would you want more worms in your house? You're right to get rid of the ones you have."

"It's dumb to pay someone to kill them when you could sell them and make money," her father said.

"He does have a point," Grandma Mazur said. "Besides, raising worms is a hell of a lot more interesting than working at the button factory. I haven't had a good story to tell down at the Clip and Curl since you quit bounty huntering."

Stephanie's eye twitched. "Can we talk about something else, please?"

Her mother obliged. "When are you and Joe getting back together?" she asked.

_Urgh._ She'd rather talk about worms. "I don't think we're going to."

"Yes, but you're still - "

"I _know_, Mom, but it's been six months. It's over." She picked up her wine glass, and started to drain it.

"Yeah," Grandma Mazur said. "Besides, I heard that hot bounty hunter with the nice package is back in town, and that he's been keeping you company."

She choked on the wine. "What?" she spluttered.

"Marge Shifton lives across the street from you. She says he showed up early this morning, and watched you while you were sleeping in your car. And that he was by later this afternoon with a bunch of hoods who stole all your living room furniture and ran around in the front yard pointing their guns at everyone. She also caught the two of you smooching on your front step."

"Is this true?" her mother asked in a scandalized tone. "You've been sleeping in your car?"

She put a finger to her eye. "Just last night. The worms were... keeping me awake." To her grandmother she asked, "He was watching me sleep?"

"Yep. She said he was there from at least three o'clock on. Marge doesn't miss much. She also said that you've been rearranging your furniture a lot lately. Stacking it and stuff."

She glanced nervously at her mother. "That was because of the worms," she said. "They were nibbling on the, uh, upholstery, and I wanted the stuff off the floor. So they couldn't eat it."

Her mother's eyes narrowed. "Earthworms eat upholstery?"

"Everyone knows that." Her grandmother glanced her way. "Say – can you drive me to Arnold Klickner's viewing tonight?"

"I would, but I don't have a car."

"No problem. You can use the Buick."

Stephanie sighed. Back to big blue. Life just got better and better.

"I sure don't want to miss this one," Grandma Mazur continued. "Apparently Arnold fell down the stairs and twisted his head right around. I sure would like to see what that looks like."

"Jesus," her father muttered.

Her mother pointed a knife at Stephanie. "If you let her pry the lid off another casket, I'll never feed you cake again."

Dinner didn't improve much after that. Things got worse after dessert, when she and Grandma Mazur left the house, and discovered Ranger outside. He leaned against his Porsche, arms folded across his chest. He looked cool and dangerous. Lester stood on the other side of the car. He looked freshly pummelled.

"Well, look who's here," Grandma said. "I think he wants to talk to you."

Indeed, Ranger had raised a hand, and now crooked a finger at her. _Shit._ "Come on," she said, urging her grandmother toward the Buick. "Let's go, or we'll be late."

"Hey! Quit pushing! I'm an old lady! You want me to fall down and break a hip?"

She hadn't seen him move, but suddenly he was there, blocking the driver door. "Going somewhere?"

"Just driving Grandma to a viewing," she replied uneasily.

Ranger moved in closer to her, his annoyance obvious. "You left the house rather abruptly," he said. "No one knew where you had gone."

"I was late for dinner," she said. "You were… busy."

His mouth was so tight his lips barely moved. "You should have said you were leaving. We had matters to discuss."

"Are you helping Stephanie with her worm problem?" Grandma asked suddenly.

That made Ranger pause. He looked at Grandma Mazur. "Her what?" he asked.

"Her earthworm infestation. I didn't know you fellows killed bugs, too. I thought you only killed people."

Ranger raised a brow, and Stephanie made a strangled sound. "Ranger doesn't kill criminals!" she said to Grandma. "He he he – no no no. No, he's a bounty hunter, like I am – was."

"So you're an exterminator on the side? Man, from what she says, sounds like her house is a real mess. Don't envy the fellow that has to clean up all that worm poo."

Ranger stared at Grandma Mazur for a long time, not saying anything. Then he turned and gave Stephanie the same blank look.

"Oh boy!" Stephanie said. "We gotta go, or we'll be late!"

"Tell you what," Ranger said. He gave Grandma Mazur a polite smile. "How about Lester drives you there and back? Then Stephanie and I can have our discussion… about her earthworms."

Grandma Mazur squinted in Lester's direction. "Why, sure! I'll go with that hottie!" She waved. "Yoo-hoo!"

Ranger smiled a little, and gestured for Lester to come hither. Lester took one look at what was being asked of him, and visibly paled.

"Keep your hands to yourself, Grandma," Stephanie said, once she and Lester were installed in the Buick.

"Well, I'll try," Grandma Mazur said, sounding doubtful of her ability to do so. "Boy, that's some shiner you got there."

"Thank you," Lester growled.

"I've never dated a thug before. I bet you got a nice big gun." She gave him a knowing elbow in the ribs.

Lester slowly turned his head, and glared out the window at Ranger. His face was an odd mixture of rage and horror. He slid a little further away from Grandma, and took off for the funeral home.

The instant the car was out of the driveway, Ranger turned to her. "Earthworms?" he asked.

"It's a long story I'd rather not repeat," she replied.

"And I don't think I particularly want to hear it - though there are other topics we are going to discuss." His hand was suddenly on her arm, and the next thing she knew, he was steering her toward the Porsche.

"You know what?" she said nervously. "I just remembered that I promised I would - "

"Not going to work." He opened the passenger door, dumped her inside, and did up her seatbelt. He saw her reach for the buckle, and said, "Making a run for it will only annoy me, and I promise you – you won't get far."

The thought of being chased by Ranger was such a terrifying and hormone inducing notion that she could do nothing but grip onto her seatbelt, and pant.

He got in. "So," he said, once the car was in motion, "what did I do to make you change?"

So he wasn't going to beat about the bush. She was surprised – this kind of emotional discussion wasn't Ranger's thing, as far as she had come to know him. Perhaps he had changed in that regard, but she certainly had not. She crossed her arms, and said, "I don't want to talk about it."

"You put it out there, Babe," he said. "And I think I deserve an explanation."

She clamped her mouth shut, and stared out the window. Inside, her mind whirled furiously and desperately.

"Babe?"

"You know what you did," she muttered finally.

He was silent for a moment. "Is this about my leaving for Miami?"

She didn't answer. She just dropped her eyes, and stared at her hands, held tightly in her lap.

The car came to a stop in front of her house. He turned off the engine, and shifted so he was facing her. They were both silent for a long time. Finally he said, "You know why I left. It had nothing to do with you."

She lifted her head, and looked out the passenger window. Her house sat there, dark and foreboding. "I know," she said softly. She recalled his reasons easily, as if she was just hearing them now. He had indicated that he had spent too much time in Trenton, that the other branches of his business needed his attention. For the next two years, he would put in an extended stay at all the Rangemans, and then set up home in Miami, to be closer to his daughter.

It had all sounded perfectly reasonable, and she had agreed with him that he needed to do what was best for his company. She had also gone home afterward, and cried for two days.

"If my decision bothered you, you should have said something."

She laughed bitterly. "Like it would have made a difference, Ranger," she said angrily. "You'd made up your mind. There was nothing I could do to make you stay."

"That's not true," he said.

This made her turn to face him. "Excuse me?"

He actually looked angry. "I would have stayed if you asked me to," he said, "but I figured you didn't want me to."

Both of these revelations stunned her. "What?!"

His look darkened. "You were engaged to Morelli three days after I told you my plans. What was I supposed to think?"

Her cheeks reddened. "I only accepted his proposal because you were leaving! You made it very clear that you weren't coming back! You gave me no indication that you were going to miss me, or that you wanted me! What else was I supposed to do?"

He seemed just as surprised by her revelation as she had been about his. "You could have come with me."

"You never asked!" she screamed. And she flung herself out of the car.

He caught her before she even took two steps toward the front door. "Stephanie!"

"Piss off!" She tried to fight him, but beating on him was fairly ineffectual. "Let me go!"

"No. We're not done here."

"I am!" She raised her leg, ready to deliver her signature move.

He blocked her knee easily. He looked furious. "You try and bag me again, and you will regret it."

"No I won't! I'll be glad – glad, you hear me?"

He growled, and slapped his arms around her, lifting her off the ground. "That's enough, Stephanie!"

"Put me down!"

Ranger didn't reply, which didn't surprise her. He threw her over his shoulder, and turned toward the house. He took one step – and then he stopped. And tossed her onto the ground.

"Ow! Hey! You dumb shi- !"

Her words died when she saw that he had drawn his gun. Was he going to shoot her? No – his eyes were focused on the brightly lit living room window. Wait a minute – wasn't the house dark when they pulled up?

She spun around, and fell back on her butt. Bella stood in the front window, her form partially translucent in the light from the sea shell lamp. She stared at Stephanie, eyes dark and fierce. Her hand rose; the finger pointed. "You!"

Stephanie was too frightened to scream, or to even move. She just sat there, a chill spreading through her. She had had plenty of scares in her life, but she had never felt this kind of terror. She desperately wanted to look away, but she couldn't. This version of Bella was far scarier than she had ever been when she was alive.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ranger run to the door. He didn't even bother with the key fob; he simply put his shoulder down, and hit the door like a battering ram, busting it off its hinges.

The noise distracted her enough to finally look away from Bella. "Ranger!"

The impact made him lose his balance, and he stumbled a little. He quickly regained his footing, and charged into the living room. She heard him come to a sudden stop. A moment later, his voice carried out the open doorway – "What the fuck!"

Stephanie looked back to the window. Bella was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N – **Thanks for the reviews! J.

--

She entered her house, wary of the bits of door that did not survive Ranger's entry. She gave it a push; it still swung on the hinges, but now just bumped off the jamb. Perhaps one of Ranger's men could install a new one. They were good at cleaning up messes.

The door, however, was the least of her worries. "Ranger?" she asked tentatively. He wasn't in the living room – it always surprised her fast he could move.

"Go back outside!" His voice came from upstairs. She could hear doors banging open, and quick footsteps in each room as he checked her home for intruders.

Stephanie sighed. She navigated the entry again, and sat down on the front step to wait.

Two minutes later, Ranger came outside. He was breathing a bit heavy, and he looked frustrated. He still held his gun. He jumped down the stairs, and started poking around in her bushes.

"Umm… excuse me? I don't think anyone's hiding in the garden. It's not leafy enough."

He didn't answer. He continued around her entire front yard, before moving into the back. He even pulled out his Maglite, and shone it into the neighbour's yard. Then he looked up at her roof, and the rooftops around her house.

"There's no one here," he finally concluded. He sat down on the front step.

"Mm-hmm," Stephanie said. No one corporeal, anyway…

He looked at her. "You did see her, didn't you? I wasn't imagining things."

She nodded. "I saw her."

He was silent for awhile. "She was…"

"See-through?" she suggested.

He nodded. "Yeah." He frowned, and opened his phone. "Tank? I need a team at Stephanie's now. Tell them to bring the scanners… Yeah."

Scanners? It didn't matter. In fact, she felt more relief than curiosity. Ranger finally believed in the ghost. He had seen Bella, had seen that she _was_ a ghost. He believed.

"I'm sorry about your door," he said. "I'll get someone to repair it."

She smiled. Then she saw his shoulder. "You're hurt," she said.

He looked at his torn shirt. "Just a flesh wound."

She took his hand. "Come on. I'll patch you up."

"We'll wait until the others arrive," he said. He tugged her down to the step beside him.

"But you're bleeding…"

"It'll keep." He pulled her in to rest against his uninjured side.

She sighed; he was so stubborn, one of these 'pain don't hurt' kind of guys. But she enjoyed his closeness just the same, even though she could smell the blood on him.

"How many times have you seen her, Babe? Since this all started?"

She was a little surprised by the question. "That was the second time."

"You've never seen her while you've been inside the house?"

"No. I've always seen her from the front yard."

"She's always been in the living room?"

She nodded. "Why?"

"Tell me how she acted," he said, ignoring her question. "Was it the same both times? Different?"

"No – I guess it was kinda the same. She just… looks at me. And then she points, and says, 'You'." Stephanie shuddered.

"What about her clothes? Do they change? Her hair style?"

She frowned. "What is this about?"

He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Did it look like Bella to you? I never saw her up close when she was alive."

She nodded. "Yeah… that was her."

"Hmm." He turned thoughtful.

"Ranger…"

"What do you see in the window right now?"

She sighed, frustrated at his mystery. She got up, and stepped out onto her lawn to check. She gasped, and froze.

"Is she back?" Ranger asked. He said this matter-of-factly.

She nodded. Bella stood there, glaring at her. Stephanie darted over to Ranger again, and practically crawled into his lap.

He smiled, and put his arms around her. "There, now."

She relished the feel of his embrace, but she didn't feel overly comforted. "Aren't you going to do anything?" she whispered, afraid that Bella might here. "Make a scary face or something?"

He smiled. "Not at the moment."

"What? Why not?" Was he scared of the ghost? It seemed unlikely, but… what if?

"I'll just wait for Tank. He has something I need."

She frowned, but said, "Okay." She tightened her grip on him. She wished they could wait in the car.

"Relax, Babe," Ranger said. "She can't hurt you."

"I don't know," she said dubiously. "She was pretty good at slapping my furniture around…"

He laughed lightly, and kissed her cheek. "She can't hurt you," he repeated. He began rubbing his hand up and down her back.

She sighed; his touch was soothing. She leaned her head on his shoulder. They sat like that for five minutes or so, not saying a word. The feel of his hand was hypnotic.

"Would you really have taken me with you?" she whispered suddenly.

"Yes." He answered with no hesitation.

She frowned. "Then why didn't you ask me?"

"Probably for the same reasons you didn't ask me to stay."

"Oh." She breathed out the word so softly, it was barely audible.

"What if I asked you now?"

She tensed. "What do you mean?"

He started to kiss her, gently and slowly about her face. "If I asked you to come back with me to Miami, would you?"

"I…" Her mouth flapped a few times. "_Would_ you ask me?"

She felt him laugh. "I might," he said. He started to kiss her neck, and the hand that was at her back moved around to her front. It slid up under her shirt.

"The neighbours are watching," she said, thinking of Marge Shifton across the street.

"Don't care," he said. His fingers walked their way up her breast.

"But I still have to live here," she whispered.

His lips found her ear. "Not if you come to Miami with me."

She gasped when his fingers found her nipple through her bra, and started to worry it. She gasped again when his tongue darted out, and traced her earlobe. "Ranger…"

"Babe," he murmured back. And he began attacking her neck with renewed vigour.

Holy cow – did this man ever know what he was doing. Between his tongue and his fingers, she was about ready to sing the Hallelujah Chorus, and he hadn't even struck gold yet. Her eyes were drooped closed in ecstasy, but when he shifted her (so he could have better access to her breasts) she opened them, and found herself facing the front door.

The door was open, since it no longer fit properly in the jamb. Bella stood in the doorway, hands on hips, staring down at her, looking more annoyed and outraged than she did when Stephanie threw out her ceramic knick-knacks. Apparently Stephanie's making out with a man who wasn't Bella's grandson wasn't to her liking. The ghost raised a finger, and waggled it at her in a chastising manner.

"They're here," Ranger said. He sat her up, and watched as two black SUVs pulled up in front of the house. He looked down, and saw her white face. "Are you okay?"

Stephanie looked back at the doorway – it was empty. "Yeah," she whispered.

'They' turned out to be Tank and two Rangeman employees she hadn't met before. Tank gave her a Tank smile – small and brief – before turning to Ranger. "It's all here," he said.

Ranger pointed to the newbies. "Scan this yard and the neighbours'. Then do a visual inspection of the neighbourhood. You know what to look for?"

The men nodded, and pulled out some strange looking gadgets. "What's that for?" Stephanie asked, as the men wandered off with their toys.

"They're looking electrical signals," Ranger said. "Let's go inside."

She saw Tank was holding an identical gadget, and was already employing it inside of the house. "Why are you looking for electrical signals?" she whispered.

"Just a hunch," he said. "Something I should have checked out before, but didn't." He walked into her living room, and began looking carefully at all the walls.

Tank's eyes were on his gadget. "Over there," he said, pointing to the wall opposite the front window.

Ranger went over to the wall, and scanned it visually. Then he took down the painting – some sort of ugly Van Gogh sunflower knock-off – and said, "Hmm."

Stephanie came up beside him, mouth agape. "What _is_ that?"

"A projector," he said. "Or, the lens of the projector; the rest of the unit is hidden behind the wall." He examined the painting, and actually smiled. He glanced at Tank. "Painted on a mesh," he said, poking it. The surface of the painting gave under his finger, like a piece of stretchy fabric. "It would allow for the projection to shine through…"

Tank nodded. "It would distort it just enough for their purposes, too," he said. He went over to the window, and ran his hands over the surface. He looked over at Ranger. "You're never gonna believe this…" He reached into the upper corner of the window, and started to pick at it.

"What is he - ?" Stephanie's words died when Tank gripped something with finger and thumb, and pulled. A thin, transparent plastic slowly peeled off the corner of her window. "What the - ?"

Ranger went over. "I bet it's Vikuiti," he said. He ran his hand over the window too. "It covers the entire surface."

"Pricy," said Tank. "Someone's gone to a lot of trouble here."

Ranger nodded. "See if you can find the access to that projector."

Tank grabbed the tool box he'd brought in with him. "I'm on it." He wandered off down the hall.

Stephanie tentatively came up beside Ranger. "What is that?"

"It's rear projection film. You put this stuff on a window, and then you can shine an image from a projector onto the window, so it can be seen from outside. Without it, the image wouldn't be visible."

"What did you call it before?"

"Vikuiti – that's the brand name. It's expensive, because it's very nearly invisible on the glass. Whoever put this up covered the entire thing, so unless you felt it, you wouldn't know that it was there."

She touched the glass – it did have kind of a plastic-y feel to it. If she had ever washed her windows, she might have noticed it.

Sounds of a drill suddenly issued from her bathroom, followed by a thunking sound. "Found it!" Tank said.

Ranger spread the loose bit of film back on the window. "Turn it on," he called. "Stand back, Babe."

They moved back from the window. A moment later, light shone through the projector. Stephanie jumped. Bella stood before them, looking surly.

Ranger's arms went around her. "There's your ghost, Babe," he said.

--

**A/N** – Vikuiti is a rear projection film made by 3M, and is used just as Ranger described... though mostly by companies looking to show advertisements on street front windows.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N** - Once again, a big thank you to all those who have left comments! It was wonderful to hear from you! All the best, J.

--

"So you're saying that my house isn't haunted."

"That's what it looks like," Ranger said. He and Stephanie sat at the kitchen table with Tank and Hector. They stared at the projector on the table, which Tank had yanked out of the wall. It was shining the 'ghost' of Bella on her refrigerator.

"Judging by the age of the equipment, it's been in the wall for a year or two, if it was bought new," Tank said.

Stephanie was still boggled by it all. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?"

Ranger looked at the others; they both shook their heads. "I haven't either," he said. "Nothing this elaborate, at least."

Tank studied the image carefully. "Someone cut out the background in the original footage, so it wouldn't appear in the projection." He pointed. "You can catch bits of it, where they weren't so careful cropping around her."

The image of Bella pointed at Stephanie. She looked away. "Can we turn it off?" she asked.

Ranger nodded, and Tank pressed the switch. Bella shrank, and disappeared.

Hector pointed to something at the back of the machine, and spoke for a minute or two. Ranger then translated, "He said that video was run remotely. Whoever's behind this saw you arrive, and triggered the playback." He asked Hector a question, and when he got a response, he said, "Hector thinks the signal strength isn't that strong – our perpetrator probably set it off within a two block radius."

"So someone in my neighbourhood is spying on me?"

"Yes - and we know how." He gestured to Hector, who got up, and came back with Bella's sea shell lamp. Sure enough, entwined within a few shells was a very small camera, not unlike the ones Rangeman had installed. "This lamp was kept by the front window, right? It would be easy, then, to see you coming and going, work out your patterns. Probably helped them figure out when to come over and rearrange your furniture, too."

Tank added, "The camera was wired to run off the power coming into the lamp."

"I was paying for the electricity someone used to spy on me?" Stephanie was immediately pissed off. "Someone's gonna get it," she said.

"And they will," Ranger said. "Right now we just need to figure out who that someone is. Tomorrow we'll run background checks on all your neighbours, see if any of them were FTAs you brought in."

"You honestly think a skip of mine did all this?"

"No – but I want to make sure."

She laughed. "Most of the guys I brought in just weren't this smart. I'd mean, you'd have to know what you're doing to set this up, right?"

Hector said something. Ranger translated, "You'd need some technical knowledge, for sure – but this is stuff you can buy at any electronic supply house. And you can get plans for this on the web. It really isn't that hard."

That wasn't comforting. "So it could have been anyone."

Ranger frowned. "I don't think it was just anyone. Someone had to know there was space to put the projector in between the front room and the bathroom. They also needed the time to do it - this wasn't installed in an afternoon. They ran a separate circuit just for the projector; they did some drywall work to hide the opening they made; they modified the lamp. This took a full day, maybe two – too long for the average skip to accomplish."

"Jeez."

"Was there any time during the last couple of years that you and Joe were away for a few days?"

"Uh... I went to Point Pleasant a year and a half ago with Valerie and the girls. Joe didn't come."

Meaningful glances were exchanged between Ranger and his men. It didn't take a genius to figure out what wasn't being said. "You think it was Joe, don't you?"

He nodded. "If not him, then someone in his family."

She shook her head vehemently. "No – impossible."

"Think about it, Babe. Whoever did this had to have been in the house before; and you'd need at least two strong guys to move and stack the furniture like you've described."

She frowned. "Joe would never do this. I mean... we didn't part on friendly terms, but this is harassment. He wouldn't do this! He's a good man!"

"Of course he is, Babe – but some of the men in his family aren't. They might be acting without his knowledge."

She didn't like the sound of that. Why would Joe's family do this to her? She and Joe split six months ago. Why wait until now?

"There aren't any other cameras around, are there?"

"If there are, they aren't in typical places – otherwise, we would have found them when we installed ours. We'll check the rest of the house, just to be sure."

She nodded. She knew there would be at least one other; otherwise, how could she have seen Bella by the front door? She realized this must have been what the guys had seen earlier that afternoon.

But Bella hadn't been holding a knife when Stephanie saw her. Well, maybe this other camera played different videos instead of repeating the same one. But how could the video show Bella running down the hall? And what did they shine the image on to make it appear? And what about the maple syrup on the furniture?

She sighed? "There's so many things I don't understand..."

"Same here, Babe – but we don't need all the answers now. Those will be figured out in time, now that we know a direction to head."

"So what happens now?" she asked wearily.

Corporate Ranger was back. "Tomorrow we'll send a team over to remove all our equipment, and look for anything else hidden around. We'll also look for who's responsible for this, and provide you with documentation, should you wish to press charges."

She snorted. Yeah – that would go over really well with Joe, seeing his family charged with mischief.

"I think," Ranger continued, "that it would be best if you stayed somewhere else tonight. I'm not comfortable with you staying here, especially if there are other cameras."

When she thought of it, she wasn't comfortable with it either. What if there was a camera in her bedroom? What if they were filming her? Not that any action went on in there nowadays, but occasionally she snuck ol' Herby Horsecock under the covers with her. God – the last thing she needed surfacing on the internet was a video of her diddling herself with a huge –

"You okay, Babe?"

She wiped at her cheeks, as if this would get rid of the blush. "Sure."

"Do you have a place you can stay?"

In times past, he wouldn't have bothered to ask the question; she would have just stayed with him. It served to remind her how different things still were. He clearly wasn't ready to share his personal space with her, despite the smooching and occasional heavy petting. It made her wonder how serious he had been when he made his Miami offer, or if he was just distracting her.

"I guess I could stay with my folks," she said reluctantly.

"Good." He turned to Tank. "Cancel the surveillance detail for tonight, and have the control room stop the monitoring on the house – and we'll need that front door barricaded before you go." He looked at Stephanie. "Do you want a ride to your parent's?"

She sighed. "Yeah."

Stephanie took her time packing a small overnight bag. Downstairs, she could hear hammering as her front door was boarded up, and male voices talking. Then the SUVs drove away, and it grew quiet.

Ranger was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. "Ready to go?"

"Uh-huh."

He didn't say another word, just turned and walked to the back door. If there was going to be another invitation made to run away with him, it wasn't going to be made tonight. She tried to hide her disappointment. Now that her problem was solved, would he leave the follow-up to Tank? Would she see him again?

Ranger paused as he put his hand on the doorknob, and looked at her.

"You okay, Babe?"

She gave him a false smile. "Sure."

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

Hope flickered in her. "Working until six."

"I think... you and I should get together for a talk. Can I meet you here, around seven?"

She suddenly felt like a light bulb full of electricity, all glowing and hot. "Sure," she whispered.

He smiled in return, and turned the door handle. The smile immediately faltered.

"What is it?"

Ranger pulled on the door. "The door's stuck." He gave it a good rattle, but it didn't budge. "Do you have problems with this one?"

"No," she said, confused.

"It's not locked." He looked out the side window. "It's not barricaded either." He pulled and pulled. "It just won't open."

The hairs on her arms suddenly stood to attention, and the room temperature dropped ten degrees. She felt the overwhelming need to turn around. She turned, and paled.

Bella stood at the front door. She was at the front door, staring at them, murder in her eye.

Stephanie reached behind her, and started yanking on his shirt. "Ranger..."

He stood, hands on hips, glaring at the door. "Hang on, Babe," he muttered.

A second later, the lights went out – and in the darkness, something moved toward them.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N** - Thanks for the reviews, everyone! J.

--

Stephanie was blind in the sudden darkness, but she knew something was racing toward her. She felt it not a second later: a sudden loss of air, and a weight like a heavy, wet tarp passing over and through her. It was cold and suffocating.

Then it was gone, and the lights came back on. She waited; and when nothing happened after several seconds, she let out the breath she had been holding.

Ranger was absolutely still beside her. "What was that?"

"That was – it was - "

"Don't say it, Babe." His voice was sharp.

She sighed angrily. "I saw her at the end of the hall, just before the lights went out."

He turned, and pulled her into the corner next to the door. She was shocked to see he had drawn his gun. "You saw someone?" he hissed.

"I saw Bella's ghost," she said firmly.

"Keep your voice down." He yanked on her so she was forced to kneel. He tried the door again, and cursed when it still would not open. He pulled out his phone, and went to dial, but the phone was dead. "This battery was fully charged," he said, confused. "Give me yours." She did; he tried it, and was instantly furious. "It's dead, too," he said. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"WHERE ARE MY CURTAINS?!"

The voice was sudden and loud, like a clap of thunder. Stephanie shrieked, and covered her ears. Even Ranger jumped a little. And then he got mad. "Just how far is Morelli going to take this joke?"

Stephanie felt the hair on her arms stand up again, and whispered, "I don't think it's Morelli."

Ranger turned. She saw his eyes go wide. Bella stood halfway down the hall. She wore old country black, and had her hair held back in a bun. She looked perfectly human, except you could see the hallway through her, and she seemed to give off a pale blue light.

Ranger stared at her. "That's not a projection," he said finally.

"No, it's not," Stephanie said.

He raised his gun anyway. "Stop right - "

"How dare you point that gun at me!" Bella shrieked. "At me, in my own house!"

The gun was torn from his hands. It flew through the air, hit the kitchen counter, and skittered under the table.

"Fuck," Ranger said. He actually sounded surprised.

"You!" Bella pointed at Stephanie, and advanced on her. "I knew you were no good for my Joseph! Three years married, and no bambinos; and now you are here, fornicating with this black man under _my _roof while my Joseph sits alone and miserable!"

"He's not black! He's Cuban! And there was no fornication!" Stephanie yelled back.

"You think I don't see," Bella said. "You think, 'She's dead and rotting, what does she know?' Well, I know." She tapped the side of her head. "I see everything, now that I'm dead. It's better than having the eye and all those stupid visions that used to make me so tired. I see what you are doing all the time now, how you are kissing and feeling up this man in my house, how he sends in thieves to steal my precious things!" She turned her face skyward and wailed, "Oh, my poor house! First you steal it out from under my Joseph's feet, and then you vandalize it!"

"I didn't steal the house – Joseph offered to let me stay here. And I didn't vandalize it."

Bella made an angry sound. "Didn't vandalize it? What about my lovely ceramic kitties? What about all these little pieces of plastic and wire you shoved in my walls, making all those holes? What about my curtains?" Her eyes flashed as she reached her real bone of contention. "Where are my curtains, you barren, fornicating hussy!"

"Don't tell her," Ranger warned.

Like hell – Steph was no one's barren fornicating hussy. "I gave them away! Goodwill took one look at them, and shredded them! Said they could make more money off them as rags!"

"Ulk!" Bella looked like she was going to keel over, if she hadn't already been dead. Then her mouth snapped closed, and her eyes turned red. She slowly faded from view.

"Not good, Babe," Ranger said, bracing himself.

The pantry door suddenly exploded outward, and food started flying at them – jars of sauce, boxes of cereal, corn syrup and jam. It all burst out of its containers and showered down upon them, splattering the walls and the floor. It was like a food blizzard; she had no idea she actually owned this much food.

Ranger grabbed her wrist, and pulled her through the melee. "Move!" He opened the door to the cellar, shoved her in, and slammed it behind them. "Get something to brace the door with!" he shouted at her. He leaned against the door; it shook and strained at its hinges, like something on the other side wanted to get in.

She stumbled down the stairs, felt for the pull string, and turned on the light. She looked around her frantically. The cellar was dark and full of junk, a lifetime of stuff collected and saved by Bella, and never disposed of.

"Hurry up!" Ranger's voice was strained.

She grabbed an old kitchen chair, and ran up the stairs with it. "Shove it under the handle!" She did, and he braced it, then took a step back. The door rattled violently for a moment, and stilled. Then something huge hit it – she guessed it was a rhino. The rhino hit the door three more times, and while the door creaked ominously, it held.

Ranger wrapped an arm around her. "Come on, Babe," he said, leading her downstairs. He plopped her in a chair. And then he started to pace.

"Ranger? Are you okay?" She was shaking herself, but he seemed downright agitated.

"I'm fine," he said. But he didn't look fine. He had that same blank and staring look his men had earlier that afternoon. He had seen something his brain couldn't fathom, and now he was trying to come to terms with it.

His actions were starting to scare her. "Do you want to sit down with me?"

He checked himself. "Sure." He went to retrieve a chair for himself. When he came back, he took one look at her, and stopped. And stared. "Babe."

"What?" She rubbed her forehead, and felt something sticky. Honey. Then she looked down at herself, and gasped in horror. She was coated with jam, syrup, cereal, and other unidentifiable food items. "Goddamn it!"

"Only you, Babe," he said, smiling.

She looked at Ranger. He was perfectly clean, except for a small patch on his side and sleeve, which must have happened when he touched her. "Now that's not fair!" She felt her hair – it seemed especially grungy.

He placed his chair next to hers, removed his leather jacket (presumably to keep it clean), then pulled her next to him. He kissed her cheek. "Mmm... marmalade."

She shifted uncomfortably; corn flakes crumbled under her butt. "I feel... gritty. And sticky."

"Want me to lick you clean?"

Her moment of shock was over quickly, and she burst out laughing. "It's amazing how many of your cleaning services sound like obscene suggestions."

"That's because they are," he purred. He carefully kissed the entire shell of her ear.

She was getting turned on, but this hardly seemed the place or time for it. "Bella might consider that fornication."

That made him pause. "True," he said. He pulled his lips away, but continued to hold her close. "I think I owe my men an apology."

"Just your men?" she grumbled.

He grew thoughtful. "You're right."

She waited, grew impatient, and finally said, "Well?"

"Well, what?"

She growled. "Aren't you going to apologize?"

"I just did."

"No you didn't!"

"Yes, I did. I said you were right."

Stupid blank-faced man. She yanked herself out of his embrace. "That's not the same thing."

He sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you, Babe. I was wrong not to. I just didn't believe in ghosts – until about five minutes ago."

She sighed. It felt like a huge weight had just been lifted off of her shoulders. Finally, finally he believed her. "Thank you," she murmured. He nodded in response.

"So what do we do now?"

"Hell if I know."

She looked at him. "What? The big security expert taps out?"

He shrugged. "Ghosts aren't my thing. I prefer an enemy I can kill, not one who's already dead."

She grew thoughtful. "Is that why you...?"

"Why I what?"

She shrugged. "I kinda heard you and Lester talking this afternoon..."

To her relief, he smiled. "I know. We could hear you breathing through the door."

She scowled. "Yeah... Well, Lester said that maybe - "

"I know what he said." He ran a hand over his eyes momentarily. "There's a lot of truth in what Lester said. I don't like the idea of fighting an unknown – I like to know what my chances are, what my enemy's strengths and weaknesses are. This idea of taking on a ghost..." He shook his head. "In all my experiences, this is the first time I've encountered something truly paranormal, and it... it bothers me. Even that idiot Diesel and all that weird stuff that seemed to happen whenever he was around has nothing on this."

He almost looked embarrassed. She wrapped her arms around him, and placed her sticky cheek on his clean chest. "It's okay," she said.

"It's not," he replied. But he returned her embrace, and gave her a kiss.

For awhile they just sat there, holding each other. Upstairs, it sounded like World War III was being waged in her kitchen. The door continued to rattle and bang, but it remained intact. The occasional piece of debris or food escaped under the door, and bounced down the stairs toward them.

"Do you think the guys can see what's happening?" she said, suddenly hopeful. "You know – through the cameras?"

"No – they turned off the monitoring; I made sure of it before you came back downstairs."

She deflated. "So no one knows we're trapped here?"

"Nope – and without a phone, they won't figure it out until tomorrow morning."

She looked around the dank cellar, and shuddered. "I don't want to spend the night here."

His hand patted her arm. "You won't."

She was relieved – he seemed very confident. "How will we get out?"

"With that," he said, shining his maglite into a corner.

She smiled when she saw the axe. It would serve Bella right if he had to chop down her front door. "Well," she said, "get to it!"

She was amusing him; she could tell by the smile. "I will once things calm down up there. I figure she'll run out of energy soon, which should give us enough time to escape."

"I thought you didn't know anything about ghosts."

"Who said that?"

"You did."

"No – I just said I don't believe in them. Doesn't mean I don't know anything about them. I was a kid once, you know."

She sighed. "So we wait." She pouted. "I don't like waiting."

He smiled. "You could use the time to tell me why my leaving made you change."

That doused her annoyance. "I can wait."

"That's what I figured; but you will tell me at some point, Babe."

She gulped. She had no doubt that he was right.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N** - Thanks to you few who chose to review! I appreciate it.

Well, this story is officially over 20,000 words - I think I'll be closer to 30 thou by the time I'm done. Oh well - maybe next time around. I will say, however - that FFN's word counter and MSWord's word counter are very different - FFN adds about 100 words a chapter. So I'm not going by this word counter. Yeah. Oh, what do you care. (Sorry - long tiring day)

Anyway - enjoy if you can. All the best, J.

--

She felt a gentle pressure at her shoulder, shaking her. "Wake up, Steph," Ranger said.

Stephanie blinked. Despite the chaos, she had fallen asleep. It had been a long couple of days, and she was tired. And even with all those muscles under his shirt, Ranger made a wonderful pillow – so warm... so cuddly...

She sat up, and saw that she had left Froot Loops and Frosted Flakes on his t-shirt, and... was that drool? She rubbed at it hastily. "Sorry 'bout that," she muttered. "How long was I - ?"

"About thirty minutes." He took her hand, and kissed her knuckles. "Time to go," he said.

She looked up at the cellar door. A thin sliver of light shone down the stairs. No ominous shadows paced back and forth behind the door. All was quiet. "When did she stop?"

"Fifteen minutes ago," he said, leading her up the stairs. The axe was in his right hand. He took hold of the doorknob with his left, and looked at her. "Ready?" he asked.

She nodded, though she wasn't sure if she really was.

The opening door cleared a swath in a field of mess. Stephanie stepped into the clear spot, and gaped. Her floor, counters, and walls appeared to have been hosed down with food. Stuff even dripped off the ceiling. And not only was there food on the floor, but also -

"My dishes!" Everything breakable was. Everything bendable was. Apparently once she had tired of the pantry, Bella had moved on to Steph's cupboards.

"Jesus," Ranger said, taking in the destruction. He stared at some vegetables, imbedded in the wall. "There was broccoli in your fridge?" he asked, surprised.

She ignored him. "I want a drink," she said instead.

"I'm buying," he said. He took her hand, and hoisted the axe. "Come on."

They tried the back door again; it still wouldn't open, so they made their way to the front door. Stephanie peeked into the living room warily. She half expected to see Bella sitting there on some phantom sofa, a cigarette in her mouth and a highball glass in her hand. But there was nothing – the room was empty save the pictures on the walls. And the sea shell lamp, sitting in its favoured spot. She knew that she had not moved it back, and neither had any of Ranger's men. What was it with Bella and her stupid lamp?

The front door had been boarded up on the outside. Ranger placed the top of the axe head against the door, and pushed on it. There was a complaint from the nails holding the boards on, but not much movement.

"What about the living room window?" she asked. "It would be faster to break it and hop out."

"I already wrecked your door," he said. "I'm trying to keep the damage to a minimum."

"I don't care – go ahead and smash it."

"My insurance company is willing to spring for doors or windows, but not both," he said. "Besides – you'll only end up cutting yourself."

"What? Will not!"

"I've seen what happens when you crawl through windows, Babe," he said wryly. "Now stand back." And he swung the axe down near the doorknob and deadbolt.

With the first _thunk_, a sudden wind blew through the hall. "Stop that!" Bella's voice boomed.

Stephanie looked around wildly. "Where is she?" she hissed frantically.

Ranger didn't answer. He swung the axe again, and again. "Door's sturdier than it looks," he muttered. He continued chopping until finally the section of doorknob fell out.

"NO!" The voice was louder, and now the wind smelt bad. Stephanie covered her nose. Then she saw the dark, indistinct shape growing about three feet from the living room entrance. It was a black Bella-sized blob.

Steph backed away from it, her heart thudding. "Hurry, Ranger! I think she's coming!"

Ranger stuck the axe head in the doorknob hole, and used it as a pry bar. The door shifted; a small gap appeared in the top corner.

"I'll kill you, you bastard!" The edges of the black shape weren't so fuzzy anymore.

He gritted his teeth, and pulled on the axe handle for all he was worth. "Aaaaagghhhh!" he shouted. His arm and back muscles twanged to attention; the veins in his neck and arms were thick and raised. A little sweat beaded on his brow.

If she hadn't been so concerned about what was forming in the living room, Stephanie would have drooled a little.

The door gave another creak, and the gap widened again. Ranger slid the axe down as far as it would go, and pulled on the axe handle with all his might.

"I'll kill you!" The shape was a recognizable human now, with head, torso, and extremities. One arm was slightly longer than the other, which was puzzling.

Ranger gave another grunt of effort. There was a creak... and the axe handle snapped off.

The sudden lack of resistance sent him straight back on his butt, right into the wall near the door. He swore, picked himself up, and threw the handle away. Then he raised a foot, and started to kick at the door, like an FTA was hiding behind it.

Stephanie could see angry red eyes now, peering at her from the shape. "Fuck fuck, hurry; fuck Ranger!" she screamed. But it was too late; Bella snapped back into reality like a camera suddenly snaps an image into focus. This time she wasn't translucent, but solid – she looked very real. Stephanie could also see why her one arm was longer than the other. She was holding a meat cleaver. Bella gave a little old lady scream, and charged at Ranger.

"Look out!" Stephanie grasped his shirt, and pulled him out of the way, just as the meat cleaver came down.

"Oof!" The momentum of the swing sent Bella reeling forward, face first into the door. There was an odd crunching sound upon impact. She shuddered for a moment, and then went still. One hand was visible – it was splayed out on the door, tendons taught. The other hand was trapped under her body.

Ranger and Stephanie stood there for a moment, both breathing a little heavy. Ranger was first to move; he shifted, and said, "Let go, Stephanie."

She looked down, and saw that her hands were still gripping his shirt. "Oops!" She patted the wrinkles anxiously, but he turned around before she could finish.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking her over for cuts and missing parts.

She was shaking. "Hal said it was a knife, not a meat cleaver!"

He actually chuckled. He took her in his arms, and held her. "I'll fire him later for not being able to tell the difference – will that make it better?"

"No!"

He took her face in his hands. "You saved my life, Babe."

She looked into his dark eyes, and immediately felt nervous in a whole new way. "Well, I figured I owed you," she said.

He smiled, and gave her a kiss to help her forget all the other kisses she'd ever had - his tongue was in her mouth, his body was pressed up full against hers. His hands slid down to her bottom, and squeezed. She gasped, and shoved up against him, wanting as many of his extremities wrapped around her as possible.

"What are you doing?" came a muffled, indignant voice. "You're smooching, aren't you? I can hear smacking noises!"

It was the kind of voice that could turn off anyone's libido. They parted lips, though they remained entangled with one another, and looked at the door. Bella was still there, spread eagle and unmoving.

Stephanie actually giggled. "She looks like one of those witches people put up at Halloween – you know the ones? Where she hits the garage, and splat?"

"Ella used to put up one on the break room door that looked very similar."

"She did not!" she cried, scandalized.

He nodded. "The guys used to throw darts at her ass."

Bella made an outraged noise, and started to move.

"Oh – now you've done it; you woke up the witch," Steph said.

Bella's trapped arm popped out from under her, and swept upwards. She braced her hands on the door, and pushed, over and over, grunting with effort. It looked like she was humping the door.

Ranger watched for awhile, then shook his head, as if to say, _Yikes_. He gestured to the kitchen. "I'm going to go get your toaster, and pitch it through the front window."

"Why go that far? Use that ugly lamp."

"It looks a little delicate," he said, "but you can try it if you like."

Steph smiled. "Now you're talking!"

Bella screeched. A second later, there was a strong sucking sound, and Bella popped off the door. They both saw then what she had been stuck on - the meat cleaver had become imbedded in both Bella and door upon impact. The cleaver was still in the door, but a great jagged hole was now in Bella.

Stephanie wrinkled her nose. "Yuck," she said.

Bella looked down, and tsked. "Oh, my dress." She swiped at it with her hands, as if the gaping wound could be brushed away like crumbs. Something fell out, and went splat on the floor.

"Huh," Ranger said. "Kidney."

Bella scowled at him, picked up the organ, and shoved it back in her gut. "I'm going to kill you both for what you have done here," she said. "Look at my door!"

"What about my kitchen?" Stephanie countered.

"_Your_ kitchen? That is not _your_ kitchen! That is _my_ kitchen! This is _my_ house! Mine!" She grabbed the meat cleaver, and yanked it out of the door in one colossal pull. The move threw her off balance; she took some quick steps, and turned toward them, cleaver raised above her head, crazed look in her eye.

Of course, by the time she was ready to attack, Ranger had Stephanie tucked behind him, and his ankle gun drawn. "Put it down," he said.

Bella paused in mid-bludgeon, and made a face. "You think you scare me? You don't scare me, Mr. Tough Guy, Mr. Bounty Hunter. You're nothing but dirt - cheap, immigrant, criminal dirt. I walk on dirt; I spit on dirt! P-too! And this one," she said, pointing to Stephanie, "is worse than dirt! This one is a whore!"

Ranger's face immediately darkened. He stepped forward. He towered over the ghost, unafraid of her or the meat cleaver. "Don't ever call her that again," he said. His voice was exceedingly dangerous.

"Oh, please! You think I didn't know what you two used to get up to? I had spies everywhere! I had visions! You'd drag her into the alley to smooch and feel her up. And did she fight you off, like a good girl with a fiancé would? No!" She turned her dagger eyes on Steph. "Whore!" she shouted. She raised the meat cleaver again.

He immediately fired the gun. The bullet went through Bella's chest and out her back, into the ravaged door behind her.

That stopped Bella short. She put a hand to her chest, and gasped. Then, remembering she was already dead, she narrowed her eyes, and growled. "You put a bullet hole in my front door!"

"Fat good that did!" Stephanie whimpered. "You just pissed her off!"

He shot her a furious look, offering her the chance to try something better.

Bella charged them, shrieking and waving the cleaver. Ranger shouted, "Upstairs!" She ran, and he followed, shooting the remaining bullets into Bella. They slowed her down – but only just a little.

"There!" They ran into the bedroom, and slammed the door shut. Ranger set the lock, but it was the small button kind in the door handle, and wouldn't hold back a flea. He grabbed her dresser, and pushed it in front of the door, just as Bella started whacking at the door with her cleaver.

--

**Another A/N** - Uh-oh! Now Stephanie's trapped in the bedroom... with a bed... and Ranger. What's going to happen next? He he he!


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N** - Thanks for the reviews and comments! J.

--

Stephanie jumped with each hit on the door. "I hate this!" she cried.

Ranger came over to her, and embraced her. "It's okay," he said. "We're safe for the moment."

"She isn't going to chop through?"

"Not with a meat cleaver, Babe." And sure enough, after a few minutes, the hits on the door stopped, and all grew quiet.

They waited. "I wish I knew what she was doing," she whispered.

Suddenly there was a thunderous crash that shook the whole house and nudged the dresser out of place. Ranger pushed it back, and held it as more bangs were heard and felt. The door shook violently. A high pitched screaming could be heard over the assault. Stephanie was surprised to discover it wasn't her doing the screaming.

She slammed her hands over her ears, and slid down the far wall. "I want to go home!" she whimpered. Then she realized she was home, and felt like crying.

The banging stopped, though the door continued to rattle and shake. Satisfied the dresser was going to stay where it was, Ranger came over, and sat down beside her, wrapping her up in a secure hug.

"It's okay, Babe. I don't think she's good with doors."

"Really?"

"She couldn't get into the cellar."

That was true. She sighed, though, and said, "I wish this was over."

He kissed her forehead. "It will be soon," he said. He looked around the room. "I'm going to try your phone."

She was buoyed at the thought of reinforcements coming; but unfortunately, the landlines were also dead. Ranger looked out the window, and frowned when he saw how far away the ground was. "I might make it if I jumped," he said, "but I can't guarantee my landing. And I'm not leaving you here anyway."

_Thank God, _she thought. "We could make a rope out of the bed sheets," she suggested.

He gave her a look. "That doesn't really work, you know."

"Well, sorry, but I want to get out of here!"

He smiled apologetically. "I know. We will." He turned the crank; the window opened an inch, and stopped.

"Yeah," she said, "that one never really worked."

"Hmm," he said. He sat down on the bed. "Well, short of cutting a hole in the wall, I'm not sure what to do but wait it out."

She glanced at the door; it still rattled angrily. "That could take forever," she whined.

"She'll run out of energy," he said. "When she does, we'll go downstairs, and break the front window. To hell with insurance. I can afford to get you a new one." He seemed to realize then that she was still on the floor. He patted the bedspread next to him, and said, "Come sit here."

"Okay." And she did.

His arm wrapped around her. "There was a time you'd get nervous being in the same room with me and a bed."

She smiled a little. "Yeah, well... I guess that's another thing about me that's changed."

"It's a good change," he said. "Let's sit against the headboard, so we'll be more comfortable."

_Yeah, right,_ she thought, but she didn't object; in fact, she was quite keen to see what comfort he had in mind. She adjusted the pillows with him, and settled down, her head on his shoulder, their arms about each other. Together, they watched the door bounce in its frame.

"So why did my leaving cause you to change?"

She sighed. "I knew you were going to ask me that."

He started fingering the ends of her hair, about the only part of her that wasn't sticky. "Please, Stephanie," he said softly. "I want to know."

She frowned. But she felt resigned – there seemed no point in hiding it now. And she had no idea what his future plans were – was he back in Trenton to stay? Was he leaving in the morning? What if she never got the chance to hell him how she really felt?

Finally she said, "Joe had proposed to me a few months before you told me you were leaving. He said… he knew I had feelings for you, and that he would wait until I sorted them out. I feel kinda bad now, remembering just how long he held in there – it really wasn't fair, making him wait. But he didn't want an answer until I was sure, one way or the other. And I was lucky that he was willing to wait – most guys would have packed up and left."

The subtleties of this comment were not lost on him. "Hmm."

She smiled a little. "Anyway… it didn't take long for Morelli to hear you were leaving. He came over a couple nights after you told me your plans, and asked me if I was ready to give him an answer. I didn't want to do it then. I didn't want to look like I was settling for him after finally being rejected by you, so I told him I needed some more time. But he told me he was done waiting." She rubbed a hand over her eyes. "I didn't want to lose Joe too… so I said yes. And I never felt so guilty. I knew I was settling, he knew I was settling – and yet, he didn't seem to care. We got married a month later.

"The first year was pretty good, all things considering. I was still chasing skips, and I was still horrible at it. But Joe never once asked me to quit. I know he wanted to, but he kept his mouth shut. Otherwise, we were happy. I mean, we still had our fights, but really, we had never gotten along so well, probably because - " She paused.

"Probably because I wasn't around to interfere," Ranger finished.

She nodded. "I never stopped thinking about you, though," she said quietly. "I felt so dumb, because you and I never had a relationship beyond our friendship and… that one night together. And I kept wondering, why didn't you want a relationship with me? I mean, I know we didn't have tons in common; there was the food thing, and the exercise thing, and the, uh, gun thing, but - "

"Hang on, Babe."

"What?" Then she noticed it too – the door had stopped rattling.

They sat there for a minute in silence, straining to hear any noise. Then there came a sudden crash from further down the hall.

Stephanie winced. "I think she's trashing my bathroom."

"Might be a good time to try and make it back downstairs."

She agreed – Bella was thorough in her destruction – but just as they prepared to move the dresser out of the way, the door started rattling again.

"Do you think she has help?" Stephanie wondered. It sounded like there was someone in the bathroom _and_ at the door. It was an uncomfortable thought, that maybe there was more than one ghost in her house.

Apparently the thought didn't settle well with Ranger either. "Babe, that's something I don't want to contemplate right now." He led her back to the bed.

"What was I talking about?" she asked. She yawned – it was well past her bedtime.

"You were wondering why I didn't want a relationship when we had so many common interests." He was smirking.

"Oh." She winced, embarrassed. He was right; they had nothing in common. "I guess what I was trying to say was that even though we had our differences, I knew you, um, liked me. And yet you never acted upon your feelings, besides trying to get me into the sack."

He looked a bit pained. "Babe, I told you; at the time, my life - "

"I know," she interrupted. "You were very good at giving me excuses." She carefully pulled away from him; talking about this stuff wasn't making her feel better, as she supposed it would; instead, she was starting to feel annoyed, and hurt. Emotions she thought deeply buried were apparently closer to the surface than she thought.

"Anyway… one day I had a particularly bad time at work. This was about a year and half after you left; we'd been in this house for about six months. I came home covered in garbage. I wondered what the hell I was doing this job for. I wasn't good at it, and wasn't getting any better. Then I realized I was only holding onto the job because of you."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I guess a part of me was hoping you'd come back, that we'd still have some connection if I stuck with it. Then it dawned on me that you weren't coming back, and even if you did, you wouldn't care. I mean, it's not like you wanted me when I _was_ a bounty hunter, so why bother?"

He blinked at her angry tone. "Whoa, Babe. You know that's not - "

She ignored him. She was on a roll now. "And then I thought, why am I moping around for some asshole who never showed me the least bit of consideration, who played with my feelings and didn't have the balls to step up to the plate and do something about it? I was married to a good man, a man who I wasn't showing the same kind of consideration. So I quit, and got a job at the button factory."

Ranger quickly disguised whatever he was feeling behind a blank face. "I see," he said. "And did your decision please him?"

"Very much so." She paused, and some of her bitterness faded.

"And were you happy?" he finally prodded.

She sighed. "No. I hated the job – I knew it wasn't right for me, just like bounty hunting wasn't right for me. And cutting out the bounty hunting didn't cut out any of the feelings I had for you, which only made me feel worse. I couldn't understand why, after having you out of my life for over a year and a half, I still couldn't stop thinking of you, couldn't stop lo - " She blushed, cursing herself for what she almost said.

Ranger's face was still blank, but his eyes were strangely dark and penetrating. He gently tugged her back against him, and started to play with her hair again. "So what happened after that?" he asked.

She closed her eyes; she liked the way his hand felt in her hair, even though occasionally he snagged a sticky spot. "Joe could see I was unhappy. He thought it was just the job, though as time went on, I'm sure he suspected something else was up. We fought a lot – it seemed like I was always snipping at him for one thing or another, and he wasn't much better. Finally, after about eight months, Joe told me outright that I should quit, that my job was making us both miserable. He was making enough that he could support us both. I could take my time to find a job I really liked. Or, we could try to start a family. I could stay at home with the kids for awhile, or they could go into daycare whenever I wanted to find a job."

Were the corners of his mouth twitching? "And what did you say?"

"I told him I wasn't quitting until _I_ decided to quit; and that I wasn't ready to start a family." She frowned. "He was not pleased."

"You didn't discuss children before you got married?"

"Yes. He had made it clear that he wanted them. I made it clear that I wasn't so sure. I guess he thought he could change my mind when the time came." She scowled. "He was wrong. We fought over it, and everything else, for four months. Finally, I sat him down. I told him I wasn't ready, and wasn't sure if I would ever be ready. He told me he couldn't wait that long; I told him that I understood. It was all very... calm; polite. He packed a bag, and moved out. A few weeks later, he and his cousins came over and packed up the rest of his stuff while I was at work. I haven't heard from him since."

Ranger didn't say anything. Stephanie sat there, held snug up against him, and waited for something to happen.

"Was your decision not to have children in any way based on my leaving?" he asked finally.

She shook her head. "Maybe my uncertainty over you fuelled it a little; I didn't want to have children with one man while I was thinking about another... but the idea of having kids with Joe just... didn't feel right, for some reason. It's not that I didn't love him, or trust him, or think he would make a bad father... I don't know. All I know is, every time I pictured living in this house with a couple of kids, I just... panicked."

They both fell silent for awhile. So did the door. It felt like whatever was out there was listening.

"So Morelli left, and you stayed here."

She nodded. Her chest hurt with repressed tears; she rubbed at it, but the feeling didn't go away.

"Did it make you feel better when he left?"

She thought about it, then shook her head. "There was some initial relief to finally have it over, but I think I actually feel worse now. I feel... guilty."

"Why did you stay here?"

"I couldn't afford anything else. Joe told me I could stay as long as I wanted..."

"You said that the first year of your marriage, you had few problems, right?"

This question she did not expect. She sat up so she could see his face. He was thinking, which didn't bode well. "Yeah. I mean, it was okay. Sometimes we fought, but it was usual stuff that we - "

"And then after that, when you moved into this house, things started to deteriorate."

She thought about it. "I guess so..."

"And you've been unhappy in this house ever since – perhaps even more so since Morelli left."

She nodded. "Ranger, what are you - ?"

He silenced her with a kiss. When they broke apart, he said, "Usually I'm not one to give information to the enemy, but did you ever think that maybe this house was to blame for making your problems with Morelli worse? For making you feel the way you do?"

There was a livid noise from the hall, and then the sounds of destruction started up again, this time from the guest room.

Stephanie barely noticed – she was too shocked by what Ranger had just said. "No, that can't - "

"Babe, this house is overwhelmingly angry. It's not a surprise that you and Morelli had problems, why you're so unhappy now. This is not a happy house. Can you not feel it? Or have you just grown used to it?"

With every word Ranger said, the crashing and banging escalated, until the whole house was shaking. Stephanie gripped the covers for balance, barely aware that she was doing so. "I – I never noticed," she told him.

"How could you not notice? You're a sensitive person. I'm not – and I noticed the first time I walked in here." His look was grave. "What happened to you, Steph?"

"I – I don't know!" Tears slipped down her cheeks. "I never liked the house from the beginning, but I always assumed it was because I knew Bella was the former owner. She always made me so nervous, and with all her restrictions on taking possession of the house, I guess I was already unhappy when we moved in..."

"And you've been unhappy ever since," he finished. He shook his head.

"I thought it was just me..."

"Babe, you've been through worse, and I've never seen you like this. I think - " He paused; his expression was incredulous, like he couldn't believe what he was about to say. "I think this house is feeding you shit. I think you've forgotten what it means to be happy."

Could Ranger be right? Was she really missing something here? Had she really been unhappy for almost two years? Was this house - was Bella – the reason why she was so miserable, the reason why she and Joe had broken up?

If that was true, then maybe there was a chance that she and Joe could work things out.

The thought sent an immediate chill down her spine. It had been almost six months since she had seen or talked to Joe. Her feelings had definitely cooled – she wasn't sure if she still loved him. Did she want to get back together with him? Would getting out of this house make any difference to her feelings, especially since they had spent so much time apart? And what with Ranger back in her life now –

_Ranger is not back in your life,_ she quickly reminded herself. _His being here is just a coincidence, an accident, that's all. He lives in Miami, remember? And you don't._

The thought of losing Ranger again terrified her. He had actually given her hope for the first time in... months. She felt wanted when he was around. She _felt_ when he was around, saw beyond the fog that had enclosed her life for so long. If he left her again...

Her chest ached and ached. She sat up, and rubbed at it, trying to calm her breathing. Ranger tried to pull her back, but she edged away from him, and sat in the middle of the bed. She felt like she was hyperventilating.

"Stephanie." Ranger's look of concern was intense. "You've got to calm down."

"I can't!" she said. A loud, rhythmic thumping made her yelp; it sounded like a cave troll was pacing in her hallway. She slapped her hands over her ears, and cowered. "I want to go home," she gasped.

She felt strong arms go around her, and lift her from her huddle. Ranger slid her onto his lap, and held her. "Calm down," he said.

"Don't wanna stay here," she told him hysterically.

"I know; I know." He kissed her cheek, her forehead. "We're going to leave soon. I promise, Stephanie."

"Don't want you to leave!" She wrapped her arms around him, and practically strangled him. "Please don't leave me!"

"I'm not going to leave you."

"I mean ever! I don't want you to leave me again! I love you! Please don't leave - "

His mouth silenced her. He kissed her thoroughly and expertly, leaving her no room for words, for complaint, for anything. When he finally relinquished her, she was no longer hyperventilating. She had forgotten how to breathe.

"I'm not going to leave you. Do you understand me?"

"I... Uh..." she slurred stupidly. Her brain was as tangled as her tongue.

He smiled at her. "Let me help you figure it out." He gently lowered her onto the bed, and lay down beside her.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, as he started to undo her shirt buttons.

"I'm going to make you happy, Babe," he said. He partially covered her with his body, and started to kiss her.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N **– Thanks for your comments, everyone!

**Warning – **Smut and foul language alert (Finally! Foul language! Woo-hoo!)

All the best, J.

--

"You want to make me happy _now_?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Stephanie's lips flapped. "Why not? Because you – I – it's going to make Bella angry!"

"I know."

"I mean really angry! Listen! Can't you hear her now?"

He nodded to the sound of breaking glass and splintering furniture. "Hard to miss it." The last button yielded to his touch, and he pushed aside her shirt. He smiled fondly at her brassiere-clad breasts, as if they were long lost friends.

"But – "

He put a finger to her mouth to quiet her, then bent down and whispered, "If it makes her angry, she'll use up more energy. The sooner she uses up her energy, the sooner - "

" – we can get out of here," she finished.

"That's right," he said. His hand fell on her stomach; her muscles twitched. Slowly his fingers worked their way north.

It was a dubious sounding plan. To be honest, it sounded like one of her hair-brained ideas, which worried her. Ranger was a master planner, and this smacked of poor thinking. Had the ghost caused his mojo to slip off his cracker? Or was he just trying to get her in the sack again?

"So you think having sex with me will make her blink out?"

He raised a brow. "Who said anything about sex?"

She blushed, instantly mortified. Had she misunderstood? "I thought you said you were... going to make me happy." The last came out in one long word.

He smiled. "Oh, I am." He leaned in closer, and said, in a low voice, "I seem to remember that I could do all sorts of things to you to make you happy without actually having sex."

Oh boy – she remembered that too; and the happiness only got better when the sex got going. "I just don't know how comfortable I am with the thought of... getting happy with Bella outside listening in. Or possibly watching." She shuddered at the thought, then jumped when something large crashed in the guest room. "Besides – kinda hard to concentrate with that racket. You know?"

"In a few minutes, you won't be concentrating on anything except what I'm doing to you," he said. It sounded like a promise.

"But – why just me? If I have to do this, then I think you should be happy too." She wasn't particularly eager to have sex with Ranger in what used to be Bella's bedroom (she hadn't even been particularly thrilled to do it with Joe in here), but she didn't relish being the only one on display, if Bella decided to take a peek. At least this way they could share the embarrassment.

He chuckled. "One of us has to keep our pants on," he said. "My pleasure will just have to come from watching you."

Now she was really mortified. "You want me to masterba- ?!"

"No, Babe." His eyes grew dark. "Not unless you want to."

She pushed him off, and sat up. "I can't do this!"

He sighed a little, and propped himself up on one elbow. "I know you're nervous, Babe."

"Well, duh!"

"It's understandable. You were never very comfortable with me in these situations." His expression grew serious. "I pushed you when I shouldn't have, made stupid deals that set us back rather than taking us forward. This feels like one of these moments again, but I want to make it clear, Stephanie: I would never ask this of you if I didn't feel it was our only choice."

It was amazing how the right words could still come out sounding wrong. "So you don't really want to make me happy? Is that what you're saying?"

His eyes darkened. "Babe, I've wanted to make us both happy since I saw you sleeping in your piece of shit car. Those feelings haven't changed."

She blushed, and felt an odd tingling in her toes. "Oh."

His lips quirked. "All I'm trying to say is we don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I know it's not romantic, or an appropriate place or time. Our goal here is just to get Bella's ghost to react, and wear her down – nothing more."

"So we're just going... fool around?"

His eyes darkened again. "For as long as it takes."

She debated swooning, and rolled her eyes instead. "What a hardship."

He leaned in closer, and whispered in her ear, "Trust me, Babe – this is going to be a lot easier for you than it will be for me. Watching and listening to you..."

His eyes told her everything he didn't say. Lust filled her belly, and panic filled her chest. "Ranger - "

He pressed her down on the blankets. "Just try to relax, Babe. I promise you – this is going to be good."

That's what she was afraid of.

Once again, he covered her rigid body with his. His lips got busy, and so did his hands. Outside of the room, the noise tapered down, and then stopped all together – but it felt like someone was listening.

He noticed her tension. "Focus," Ranger said.

"Trying," she said.

"I'll give you something to think about."

A few clever movements on his part had her bra undone and draped loose over her chest, her arms still through the straps. Ranger's lips moved down, and circled around the flesh of her breast until she started whimpering; finally he latched on to her nipple, sucking hard. Her mind started to empty, and she moaned.

"Louder, Babe," he murmured, his mouth still full.

"What?" she gasped frantically.

"Moan louder. She needs to hear you."

Talk about a turn off. "This is as loud as I get."

"Then fake it."

Fake it – that was harder than it sounded. She was a terrible actor, especially in the bedroom. Joe could always tell when she faked it, so she had given up trying, opting for dead silence when things weren't going her way.

Ranger got tired of waiting. His fingers pinched one nipple while his lips nipped the other. It was just the right amount of pain and pleasure, and she groaned.

"Again," he said, "only louder."

His command made her lose her focus. Stephanie took a deep breath, and said, in a loud voice, "Aaaaahhh..."

Ranger stopped licking her nipples, and gave her a look. "That was pathetic, Babe."

She grew angry. "Well, you try and be aroused when some granny ghost is listening through your keyhole."

He gave her a gentle smile that was veiled with impatience. "You can do it." He dipped his head back to her breasts. "Pretend we're somewhere else..." The tip of his tongue circled her nipple. "Think about what I'm going to do to you once we're out of here, Babe; I'm going to put us on lockdown, and fuck you senseless for days..."

That thought elicited a long moan from her, for which he rewarded her with a thorough pelvic rub in just the right place. "Good," he said. "Again."

She obliged, letting out a long, throaty wail. _Wow,_ she thought, _I'm getting good at this._

Ranger agreed. "Babe!" His eyes were black pools. He rolled his hips, creating more delicious friction, even through all their clothes. "Again!"

There was a sudden tremendous crash from the hallway, followed by angry noises that Stephanie assumed were little old Italian lady was followed by thudding at the door; it sounded like Bella was trying the meat cleaver again.

"Keep it up, Steph," he urged. "It's working!"

That may have been true, but Bella's outrage had dampened her pilot light. She tried to moan, but it came out sounding like a howl of fear.

His lips immediately found hers. "Stay focused," he whispered to her.

"I can't!" she wailed. "I can't concentrate with all that chopping!"

"Don't let it distract you." He kissed his way back down to her breasts again. "Focus on me, Babe – what I'm doing to you."

She was trying – she really was. But despite his talented tongue and fingers, she couldn't get past the presence outside her room, listening, destroying, hating.

Ranger sensed she wasn't getting into it. He touched the button of her jeans, and snapped it open.

That succeeded in drawing her attention away from the door. She gasped as he slid his hand inside, into her panties. His fingers started to mimic the actions of his tongue at her breast, rubbing, circling, gently pinching.

Boy, that felt nice. She willed herself to relax, to savour the moment. "Oh," she breathed.

"Louder."

All relaxation and enjoyment vanished. She sat up, and shouted, "Oooohhh!"

"Jesus." He pulled his hand out of her pants, and rolled off her. "You aren't even trying."

"Then why don't you get in on the act too? Oh – I forgot! You're about as vocal during sex as you are in any other situation!"

His face grew dark, but not in a good way. "Excuse me?"

She sat on her knees, and glared at him. "The last time we were together, you said three things to me – 'A bit to the left'; 'Roll over'; and 'Grunt'."

He sat up too. "I don't grunt."

"Well, you do during sex." She started thrusting her hips, as well as she could while sitting on a mattress, and said, "'Ughn, ughn, ughn.'"

His eyes were blazing. "Watch it, Babe."

"What? You insulted my moaning. I can't insult your grunting?"

He had her pinned to the mattress in less than a second. "I – don't – grunt."

The glared at each other for several seconds, faces hot with anger. Then the anger changed to something else, and he kissed her hard, just as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down to her.

"So if you don't call it grunting," she panted in between kisses, "then what do you call it?"

He kissed her breasts again. "It's – I'm voicing my – I'm - "

"Making manly noises?" she suggested. She pulled his t-shirt out of his cargos, and pulled it upwards.

"That's it." He sat her up, tore off her shirt and bra, and took off his own.

She latched herself onto his chest, and started mauling him with her lips and teeth. "Yeah - that's called grunting."

He growled, and slammed her back down on the bed. "Well, your moaning sucks," he said. He pulled down her zipper, and yanked her pants off her so quickly they turned inside out.

"My moaning doesn't suck," she protested, lifting her hips to push off her panties. "I just don't like being loud."

"You just don't _know_ how to be loud," he corrected. "I'm going to teach you how to be loud right now." And before she had time to react, he pushed her back down on the mattress. He spread her legs, and buried his face in between them.

"Oh!" It had been a long time since anyone had done _this_ to her. She hadn't known it was a thing to miss, but apparently it was. It felt absolutely divine. "Oh, yeah – yeah - "

"Louder," he ordered.

She gasped. "Ranger!"

"I mean it – I want you screaming when you come, or you won't come at all."

"Too late!" He underestimated his talent and her need, for at the sound of his authoritative voice, her orgasm broke and swept out through her, hot and hard. She didn't scream, but she did yell "Fuck!" a lot.

He was doing his best to hold onto her bucking hips. "Holy shit," he said. "Twenty seconds. I must be good."

There was a scream of rage that seemed to encompass the whole building; the walls shook and groaned with it. The banging on the door suddenly increased tenfold. The dresser bounced out of place with each hit.

"I give her one minute before she breaks it down," Ranger said.

"Then you'd better get busy," Stephanie said, tugging at the zipper of his cargos. "See how good you really are."

"I'm better than a minute, I can tell you that," he growled. But the time limit didn't deter him; he slapped her hands away, and undid his pants himself. The cargos went down, but wouldn't go over his boots. He pulled; there was a ripping sound, and one leg popped free.

"Hurry up!" she said. The dresser had vibrated a foot away from the door, and was getting closer to the bed with each hit.

He gave up trying to free his other leg. He crawled on top of her, cargos an odd trail behind him. Bella's rage certainly wasn't troubling his arousal. He was hard; and a moment later, he was buried inside Stephanie, all the way to the hilt.

His penetration broke the spell of their anger and lust. Neither one said a word; neither one breathed. Ranger looked down at her, his expression raw. "I love you, Stephanie," he said.

Stephanie. Not Babe. Earlier in the day, the use of her name had been heartbreaking. Now, in conjunction with those three little words, it made her heart swell with happiness and joy. "I love you too," she whispered.

He smiled a tremendous thousand watt smile, just as a crack formed in the ceiling and rained dust down on them. He started moving then. A minute later he was still moving, and the door was still standing, though neither Stephanie nor Ranger noticed. They certainly didn't notice as the banging on the door decreased, and the banging of the headboard increased. They didn't notice five minutes later when the door finally gave, and swung open slowly on bent hinges. They didn't notice the black mist that filtered in and circled angrily around them like a horde of angry flies, and they certainly didn't see when it disappeared into the ceiling. They were too busy paying attention to each other to notice the sudden silence of the house. All they could hear were her soft moans as she came, and his gru – manly sounds as he did too, a few minutes after her.

Exhaustion hit her hard. She sank against him, calm, quiet, and happy, and closed her eyes. She felt his arms tighten around her briefly... and then she drifted away into nothing.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N** – Thank you for your reviews! Keep 'em coming. Please?

All the best, J.

--

She awoke to the sound of rain drops on the window. But it was weird sounding rain; it came and went in hard spatters.

"Stephanie..."

She groaned, and waved her hand, like fighting off buzzing flies.

The rain hit the window again. No wait – that wasn't rain. It sounded like... She couldn't place it. She opened her eyes, just in time to see some small pebbles sail up and hit the window.

"Stephanie!" The voice, a hissed whisper, came from outside.

She sat bolt upright, instantly awake. Someone was in her yard. Bella? No – this was a man's voice, and it was familiar.

A hand settled over her mouth, and pulled her in tight to a naked male body. Her scream died when she realized it was Ranger.

"Who's out there?" she whispered, once he moved his hand.

He was already working at his pants, which were still tangled around the one boot. "Sounds like Santos."

"Lester?" She got up to look, realized she was naked, and plastered herself flat to the floor.

Ranger raised a brow. "Babe."

There was more activity from the yard. "Any sign of them?" another voice called.

Stephanie cringed. "Grandma Mazur," she said. "What the hell are they doing here? It's nearly..." She squinted at the clock. "Eleven o'clock?" Had that little time actually passed? It felt like she and Ranger had been trapped in the house for days.

On the lawn, Lester sounded slightly agitated. "I don't like this – no one's heard from either one of them in a couple of hours."

"Maybe they went to a hotel," Grandma said.

"Ranger would have reported in."

"Well, maybe he was in a hurry to get busy, and forgot to report in. Or maybe they wanted a little privacy. I know if I had a hottie like that panting after me, that's what I'd want. Right, cutie?"

There was a sudden high pitched yelp. "Jesus, lady! Will you keep your hands to yourself?"

"I can't help it. All the cans I get to handle now are wrinkly and droopy. Yours is nice and round. It wants me to pinch it."

"No it doesn't!" There were sounds of a struggle, and another yelp.

"Might want to get dressed, Babe, before Lester shoots her," Ranger said. He won the fight with his pants, and stood up once he was covered. One leg was ripped from the hem up to mid-calf.

She pulled a new pair of pants and a shirt out of the dresser, and got dressed as Ranger went over to the window. He looked out carefully first, scanning for other intruders, then stepped into view, and called down, "Santos."

"Ranger? Is that you? Man, what are you still doing here? Is Stephanie with you?"

Stephanie peered over the jamb, and waved. "Hey, Lester."

"Is he wearing a shirt?" Grandma Mazur yelled. "It's too dark to tell."

Ranger sighed, bent over, and found his t-shirt. "We got barricaded in the house," he said. "I need you to check the back door, see if it's being blocked by something."

"I can see it from here." Lester stepped toward the house, and rattled the door for a few moments. "I can't see anything holding it in place – it's not even locked – but it won't open."

"Holy cow!" Grandma Mazur shouted. She was looking through the window at what used to be the kitchen. "What happened in there?"

Lester looked too. His eyes narrowed, and drifted upwards. "Have a food fight?" he asked sarcastically.

"Did the worms do all that?" Grandma asked. "Boy, I didn't know those little fellows could do that kind of damage. Next time I see a worm, I'm stepping on it."

"It wasn't worms," Lester said. "It was - "

"Santos!" He didn't speak loudly, but the implied shout in Ranger's voice was obvious.

Lester gave him one last look, a 'shouldn't have punched me in the eye' kind of look. "Stephanie's house is haunted," he told Grandma.

"No kidding? By who?"

"I believe it's the previous owner."

"Bella? Well, ain't that a pip." Grandma Mazur peered into the kitchen again. "Worms, _and_ a ghost. Wait until the ladies down at the Clip 'N Curl hear about this."

"There are no worms..." Stephanie sighed, too tired to get into any explanations.

"So I guess the little old lady who didn't exist locked you in, huh?" Lester asked. He was sounding less pissed off, and more amused now.

Ranger gave him the hairy eyeball. "Stephanie and I would really like to get out of here."

"Well, go ahead. Door's unlocked."

"Santos..."

Lester's eyes narrowed a little. "I'll let you out, but only because you got Stephanie with you. But if it was just you - "

Ranger sighed. "We'll work this out later, Lester."

"You bet we will," he said. His annoyance was back. He flexed his fingers. "I don't care if you are the boss. I'm taking you to the mats tomorrow morning – and I'm going let Beautiful there watch me stomp your ass."

Stephanie decided it was time to intervene. "Do you think you can get the door open?"

Lester stopped his glaring long enough give the door a gander. "I don't know."

"The front door would be easier," Ranger told him.

"Yeah – I saw it was boarded up. Pry bar should take care of that in a few minutes."

"I think there's one in the back of the Buick," Grandma Mazur said.

Lester nodded. "I'll go take a look." He took off for the front of the house.

"Why are you here?" Stephanie called down to her grandmother.

"Hot Stuff got a call on the way back from the bar, saying Ranger was missing. We decided to come over and investigate."

Stephanie very much doubted that Lester intended for Grandma to be part of the investigative team. Then the rest of Grandma's statement hit her. "The bar? I thought you went to a viewing"

"Well, afterwards, Hot Stuff took us out for drinks."

"Hot stuff?" Ranger asked.

"'Us'?" Stephanie asked.

"Me and some of the girls. We went to the Snake Pit. It was ladies night. They had a bunch of hot guys wrestling in mud, wearing nothing but little bags over their ding-dongs." Even from high above, it was easy to see the glow in Grandma's eye. "Sometimes, when they were wrestling, the little bags slipped off."

Ranger sighed. "I'm going to have to pay Santos hazard pay for that field trip."

"I'd better go see how he's doing," Grandma Mazur said. "You know how these young people are scared of the dark." She trotted around the house after Lester.

Stephanie watched her go. "My grandmother's hanging out at stripper bars. Mom's gonna kill me." She looked around, and her eyes widened. "Hey. The door's open. Did you - ?"

"No – and I'm not sure when it opened."

She glanced at him, and saw anger in his eyes – anger at himself for letting his guard down. Did he regret having sex with her? She couldn't bring herself to ask. "It's okay," she said.

"It's not – but there's nothing that can be done about it now." He held her back. "Let me check it out first." He peered out in both directions, and his annoyance slipped. "Jesus," he said. "Watch your step when you come out."

Stephanie gasped. "Holy crap! She tore off all the wallboard! And the floor - !" There were foot wide holes in the floor, evenly spaced down the entire hall. At the end, the bathroom door stood open. Both the toilet bowl and sink were smashed; water spilled out into the hall, and ran down one of the holes to the floor below.

"Why is she doing this? She's making the place unlivable."

"I think that's the point," he replied. He peered in the guest room. It looked like the mattress had exploded; springs and padding were embedded in all the walls.

"Man," she said, once she took a look herself. "I never knew cotton could be a projectile."

He smiled a little. "Here's hoping she left the stairs in one piece."

The stairs were, thankfully, just where they left them. They crept down them slowly, the silence broken only by their feet and the dripping of water from the destroyed bathroom.

"It's so quiet," she whispered. A second later her stomach rumbled.

"Well, it was," Ranger replied, eying her middle with amusement.

"I'm hungry," she said.

"I guessed. I'll take you out for dinner once we get out of here."

Her face brightened. "Pizza?"

"Babe."

"I haven't had Pino's in ages; I couldn't afford it. And besides, after all that happened tonight, I think I deserve a pie and a couple of beers."

There was a sudden thunk, followed by a high-pitched groan. Stephanie jumped. Ranger drew his gun.

"I think that's Lester at the front door," Stephanie said, once her heart rate returned to normal. She put a hand on his arm to lower it, but she might as well have been trying to move a marble statue.

He nodded when he heard Lester say something to Grandma; then Lester resumed his attack on the boarded up door, confirming he was the cause of the mystery noise. "Right," Ranger said. But he kept the gun out anyway.

The main floor looked better than the top floor, but it was still trashed. Even the living room looked tumbled, and it had nothing left in it to destroy, except –

Stephanie gasped, and grabbed his arm. "Look!" she hissed.

He pointed his gun in the same direction that she indicated, and visibly relaxed when he saw the seashell lamp lying on its side. It was a bit damaged; a few of the shells lay broken around it.

"Holy crap!" Stephanie said. "We killed her!"

"What are you talking about?"

"The lamp! It was like, indestructible! I swear, I dropped that thing four hundred times, and it never got a scratch. It bounced like it was made of rubber!" She looked at him with sudden wide eyes. "You know what this means?"

"What?"

"The sexorcism worked! Bella's gone!" She put a fist up in the air, shouted, "Yes!" and started to dance.

The activity at the door stopped momentarily. "Everything alright in there?" Lester called.

Ranger shook his head at her, and tugged her in close to him. "It's all good," he called to Lester. "How's the door look?"

"Just got a few more boards to take off; shouldn't take me more than a minute."

"Good." Ranger looked at Stephanie, and smiled. He brushed back some of her sticky hair; and when he kissed her, her toes curled and tugged on the carpet runner.

When they came up for air, she said, "My cookie jar."

This earned her a blank look. "What?"

"I want my cookie jar."

He sighed. "We'll get it tomorrow, Babe. Lester's almost done."

"What, you think I'm coming back here? Everything can stay and rot, as far as I'm concerned."

"Everything?"

"That's right."

"What about your shoes?"

She paused. There's no way a Jersey girl would leave her shoes behind, no matter the natural disaster. "Okay, maybe I'll come for my shoes tomorrow. But I'm getting the cookie jar now." She pulled away from him. "I don't want to leave it here. It has great sentimental value."

"And the fact that it's full of cookies has nothing to do with it?"

She backed away toward the kitchen. "They'll tide me over until I get my pizza."

"Babe." But he was smiling.

She grinned at him, and carefully stepped into the kitchen. The mess still staggered her; she had no idea that four cups of pudding could cover so many square feet. She shifted a pile of cereal boxes and random litter, and found the cookie jar. To her relief, the cookies were still there and unscathed. The lid, however, was missing, and the jar was cracked down one side.

"Oh," she murmured softly.

"Babe?" Ranger, with his super senses, must have heard her from the front hall.

"It's okay," she said. "Just going to need a little crazy glue." She found the lid under a pile of jam. "Eew, yuck." She quickly rinsed it off under the sink, and licked her fingers. "Mmm. Strawberry."

There was another rending noise from the front door, and a muted thud. This was followed by what she knew to be the sound of someone putting a boot to the door.

"Time to go," Ranger called.

"Coming!" She put the lid on the jar, picked the jar up, and turned around. She immediately froze, her face going white with shock. The cookie jar slipped, and fell to the floor. It smashed into a million pieces, scattering cookies everywhere, just as the front door burst open.

Bella stood in front of her, her feet covered in cookie jar and confection. "You're not going anywhere," she said. Then she smiled, and slapped her hands around Stephanie's throat.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N** – My apologies for the delay in posting. Real life hasn't been much fun lately. I received some surprisingly bad news regarding my health (which caused me to spend the weekend in the hospital when I should have been at a family member's wedding), and I really haven't felt like writing a whole lot. I'm still not quite back to normal, but I'm slowly getting there. Please bear with me while I put my life back in order. I'm going to finish this story (and it's very nearly there) but it may be awhile before I post again. I also apologize for any errors you may see; I'm sure I missed a few things here and there.

All the best, J.

--

For a ghost, Bella was awfully strong.

Well, Stephanie had been manhandled by stronger. Some instinct from her previous employment kicked in; she raised her own hands, and slapped them hard and fast on Bella's ears. It was a move most people didn't like, and she was sure that Bella wouldn't like it any better. But to her surprise and shock, her hands bypassed the sides of Bella's head, and ended up somewhere inside what used to be her brain.

"Get your filthy hands out of my head!" Bella shouted. She shook her skull violently, and Stephanie's hands flew out.

Were she not being choked, Steph would have pondered this development. She couldn't touch her. She flailed her arms and legs, but it was no use. Bella simply wasn't tangible; it was like she wasn't even there. But Bella could obviously make contact with her. The hands around Steph's neck were very real, as was the force behind them, choking her.

Stephanie tried to shout for Ranger, but she had no voice. It didn't matter anyway; his Steph radar must have gone off, because he was already there, and was attempting to pry Bella's fingers off Stephanie's neck. What should have been easy for him wasn't; his fingers passed right through Bella's hands as if they weren't even there, and accidentally scratched the flesh of Stephanie's neck.

She was starting to see spots. She grabbed hold of Bella's arms and pulled, to no avail. "Do something!" she managed to rasp.

Her words were barely comprehensible, but he understood nonetheless. He balled up a fist, and threw it as hard as he could at Bella's head. His arm shot through her, and the momentum sent him flying into the counter. His ribs connected with the corner, and he grunted in pain.

"Serves you right for trying to hit a lady," Bella chastised him.

He got up, his face dark and menacing. He kicked and punched; he pulled out his gun and shot Bella five times. Nothing touched her.

"This isn't working, Babe!" he shouted.

He sounded afraid, which only frightened her more. Of the two of them, Ranger was the strategist; if he didn't know what to do, then she was done for, because she sure as hell didn't know what to do. Bella really was going to kill her.

Perhaps it was the lack of oxygen that made her lurch forward. Maybe it was a muscle spasm that made her hands flail upwards and grab Ranger by his coat front. Or maybe it was just a selfish need that drove her. She supposed it didn't really matter. If she was going to die, she was going to go out claiming Ranger as her own. She hauled him forward, right through Bella, and kissed him as well as a dying woman could.

"Mmph!" said Ranger. He stood half in and half out of Bella. He did not seem entirely comfortable with this position.

Bella wasn't all that happy either. "Aigh!" she screeched. "Get out of me, you filthy, fornicating – Aigh!" She shuffled around, trying to get away from him. But she was unwilling to let go of Stephanie, and no matter where she stepped, Ranger was there – he outweighed the little Italian ghost by at least 100 pounds.

The distance made all the difference to life and death, however; stretched as far as she was, Bella couldn't hold on with the same iron grip. Air leaked down Stephanie's windpipe, and she sucked it in greedily. It wasn't much – it was kind of like being underwater and only given a straw to breathe through – but it stopped her from passing out.

Hearing her take in air, Ranger pulled his lips away from her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "I've got an idea," he whispered in her ear.

Her relief was instantaneous. "Good," she wheezed.

He took a half step back, taking her with him... and the two of them stepped fully into Bella.

Stephanie wasn't crazy about this plan. Inside Bella, it was cold and unpleasant. Every part of her that touched Bella's ghost felt like it had been dunked in ice water, and she felt such overwhelming despair and anger and selfishness...

Bella's phantom grip tightened. God, she needed to breathe. She bucked against Ranger, panicked.

He tightened his grip on her. "Think of me, Babe," Ranger said against her mouth. "You know I'm going to save you." He kissed her, and kissed her. "Think of me. Think of how much I love you."

It was hard to concentrate, but she did as he asked. Immediately the oppressiveness of Bella's feelings receded.

"GAAAAH!" Bella hollered. "Get out get out get out!" She backed up, arms stretched out as far as they would go. Ranger simply stepped back again, seating them within the ghost once more. Bella's hands slackened just a little, and Stephanie managed another small gasp.

"I love you, Babe," he said, kissing and breathing into her. "I love you, and I can't stop... If you think I'm going to let you die here now, you're crazy. This bitch can't beat us."

Bella was hollering good now, loud enough to make Stephanie's ears ring. Ranger kept kissing Stephanie, and making adjustments to their position whenever it Bella tried to skitter out of the way. Bella's voice rose in a wailing crescendo of rage and frustration.

Then suddenly the hands were gone from Stephanie's throat, and Bella disappeared completely from view. Stephanie drew in a ragged, sobbing breath, and doubled over.

"Ranger!" It was Lester, shouting from the front door.

Ranger knelt beside her, holding her as she struggled. "We're here."

"What the fuck is going on in there, man? I've been calling you for the last two minutes!"

"Didn't hear you." It was true – Stephanie realized that she had only heard Bella and Ranger during the attack, and no one else.

"How could you not hear me? I was fifteen feet away!"

"Does it fucking matter, Santos?" Ranger shouted back, his frustration evident. "Stephanie needs help. Get in here and - "

"I can't get through this fucking doorway! It's like there's an invisible force field or something holding me - "

"Stand by!" Ranger ran a hand up and down Stephanie's back. "You going to be okay? Stephanie?"

She raised her head to look at him, and her eyes widened. "Look out!" The warning came out hoarse and whispered.

Bella appeared out of nowhere, in mid-leap. She crashed into Ranger, and the three of them went down, skidding into the hall, Ranger and Bella on top of Stephanie.

"OW!" Stephanie cried. "Fuck!" She knew what it was like have him on top of her, but he had always held up most of his weight. His elbow was in her gut, and her pelvis was being crushed under his bulk.

Ranger got off her as quickly as he could, much to her relief. She was also relieved to see that Bella wasn't incorporeal this time; Ranger snagged Bella off him and flung her down the hallway. She flew a couple of yards, and bounced to a stop. She was on her feet in an instant, though. Snarling, she charged Ranger again and crashed into him before he could stop her. The two went down in a writhing, swearing whirlwind.

"Holy shit!" Lester and Grandma Mazur stood framed in the open front door, mouths agape, expressions flabbergasted. Neither moved to help them; the sight of Ranger wrestling with a little old lady had stunned them into statues.

"Don't just stand there!" Stephanie screeched at them, as Ranger and Bella thrashed and rolled in the background. "Go get help!"

Her command jarred them out of their stupor. Both immediately nodded, and bolted from the step in opposite directions.

"Get the fuck off me!" Somehow Ranger had gotten on his feet, and was trying to shake Bella off.

She held on like a terrier to a mailman's pant leg. "You're – not – going – anywhere!" Bella screeched. She scrabbled around him until she was on his back, and started clawing and yanking at his face and scalp. In the meantime, she kicked her heels, clearly aiming for his groin. Bella, it seemed, didn't fight fair.

Ranger suddenly gave an uncharacteristic bark of pain. "Not the hair!" he thundered, as a hank came away from his scalp and floated down to the floor. He backed up, and rammed her into the wall, over and over. The wallboard cracked and fell away; soon he was hitting her against bare studs. But still Bella would not let go, though she did stop yanking on his hair. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and put him in a chokehold.

Stephanie made it to her feet. "Let him go!" She rushed at Bella.

"Bugger off, you hussy!" Bella stuck out her foot, catching Stephanie in the gut. Steph went down, the wind knocked out of her.

Ranger's face was starting to turn purple. "Do something!" he hissed at her.

"What?!" she screeched back.

"Shoot her!" came his strangled reply.

It took some coordinating to reach his gun belt while Bella was on his back, throwing off his balance. It was even harder to aim at the moving target, since she was so close to Ranger. If Bella shifted at the wrong time -

He knew what she was thinking. "Don't you fucking miss!"

His comment pissed her off. "Shut up!" She fired the gun. It missed Ranger – _Phew!_ she thought – but also missed Bella, and took out the small window in the back door. "Goddamn it!"

"Babe!"

"I know, I know!" she shouted back. She aimed and fired, but the gun merely clicked. "It's empty!"

"Clip!"

The bullet clip, one of many on his utility belt, was even harder to reach than the gun itself. She replaced it clumsily – her hands were shaking. There was no way she could hit Bella, not in her condition. She'd just miss again, or kill Ranger. Or Bella would succeed in choking him, and move on to her.

Then it came to her. She turned and ran into the living room.

"Babe!" His tone, though strangled, was clear – _Where the fuck are you going!_

She was back three seconds later, the seashell lamp in her hand. "Hey, Bella!"

The ghost, who was back to tearing at Ranger's hair, looked up. Her face immediately grew murderous when she saw what Stephanie was holding. "What are you doing with that! Put that down!"

"Okay." Stephanie lifted it over her head, then threw it down on the floor as hard as she could.

"No!" Bella immediately scrambled off of Ranger, and ran for the lamp.

She was too late. The lamp bounced once. Before it could bounce again, Stephanie already had it in her sights. The first bullet hit the shade dead on, shattering glass and seashells in all directions. The rest of the bullets went into the base. By the time it touched the floor again, only shell fragments, ceramic pieces, and twisted wire remained. It was an ex-lamp.

Bella fell to her knees, eyes wide in horror. "Oh! My lamp!" Awkwardly, she tried to sweep the remains to her. "My precious lamp!" She held the pieces in her arms and hands, eyes darting back and forth frantically as she surveyed the damage.

Stephanie quickly stepped around her and went to Ranger, who had fallen to the floor. He was breathing hard. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, and stood without any help, though he was noticeably slower to do so. Scratches and fingernail gouges decorated his face. Great patches of his hair had been torn clean out. He looked like he had mange. Stephanie tried not to wince; she knew he'd look fine once he had a haircut, and got a hold of some bactine. At the moment, though, he was a mess.

She wrapped her arms around him. He sucked in air when she touched his side. "I hit the counter pretty hard," he told her. He looked a bit embarrassed.

She kissed his ravaged cheek. "Let's get out of here," she said.

"Hell yeah," he answered.

Something rose in front of them, blocking their passage. Bella turned, hands full of broken lamp and wire. Her face was purple.

"My husband gave me this lamp," she said. As she spoke, she seemed to grow larger and larger, until she towered over them. "He bought it for me on a trip to Atlantic City. It was the only nice thing he ever gave me – and you BROKE IT!"

Stephanie shrank back into Ranger. "Um... I'm sorry?" she squeaked.

"SORRY!?" Bella grew so huge she was almost doubled up in the hallway. Her eyes widened comically, and stayed that way as she grew and grew. Then slowly and silently, she faded from view.

"Fuck," Ranger said quietly. He looked at Stephanie. "That can't be good."

Indeed not. Stephanie and Ranger wasted no more time contemplating it, and ran toward the door, which still stood wide open to the night. They needn't have bothered; it slammed shut before they were anywhere near close. Then the floor started to shake.

"Oh shit!" Stephanie shouted. She grabbed Ranger's arm, and tried not to fall over. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit!"

Ranger shoved his hand through where the door handle used to be, and pulled on the door. He immediately fell back as if burned, cursing and swearing; his hands were lined with splinters.

The shaking grew worse, and an odd rumbling, sloshing noise suddenly came above them. It sounded like Bella was moving furniture. The ceiling above them suddenly cracked. Plaster and water spilled down upon them.

"Go!" Ranger pushed her into the living room, just as the upstairs bathtub came crashing through the ceiling, landing just where they were standing.

"Holy crap!" Stephanie shouted. That's not something she expected to see.

The house shook again. There was a sudden explosive sound, and the wall that separated the living room from the downstairs bath blew out all over them, exposing the bathroom completely. A few seconds later, the toilet in that bathroom started to disgorge unknown, smelly horrors.

"Fuck me!" Ranger cursed, a hand covering his mouth and nose.

"I want to go home!" Stephanie shouted. It was a real fight to not heave up her pot roast. "Please break the window!"

Ranger already had his gun pulled, but he paused as a new sound assailed their ears. "What the fuck is that?" he asked. It was a strange kind of wet, slithering sound.

"Please just shoot the window!" Stephanie shouted. "I don't care what it is! I don't want to know what it is! I want to get the fuck out of here! Now shoot the fucking window out, or I'm never having sex with you again!"

He actually smiled at her. "Well put, Babe. Now turn your head." And before she had the chance to comply, he aimed at the window, and fired.

The window should have shattered instantly. Instead, the glass seemed to swallow the bullet. The window stretched outward in a long, pendulous arm; it reached its maximum stretching point, and then snapped back, sending the bullet with it.

She wasn't sure what happened. One moment she was standing there, watching this amazing thing happen; the next, she was laying on the floor after Ranger pushed her out of the way. She looked up just in time to see him try to dodge the bullet, but he wasn't fast enough. The bullet pierced Ranger, just left of his navel.

There was a brief spray of blood. Slowly, Ranger's gun hand fell to his side. He looked down, curious, his other hand going to the hole in his shirt. Blood spread through the fabric, and just as quickly, started to drip from his hand.

He looked up at her, his expression unreadable. "Babe," he said. Then he fell to the floor.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N** – Hey everyone. Well, I finally managed to crank out another segment to this silly story. My apologies for the delay, but I had other things to think about besides writing these last few weeks. This was also quickly edited, so I also apologize for the errors that are no doubt in there.

Ta, J.

--

"Ranger!" Stephanie scrambled to get up off the floor, but the house gave a sudden heave, and she tumbled down toward the overflowing toilet. She cried out in disgust and horror as she rolled into the warm, sticky mess. It was like being submerged in porridge, only without the comfort factor.

_God,_ she thought hysterically, _this stink is never going to wash off!_ Then she saw Ranger, bleeding on her living room carpet, and decided she had nothing to complain about.

She got to her feet, took a step, and immediately fell down again. She tried three more times, unsuccessfully, to get on her feet. She finally gave up, and managed to half crawl, half slither out of the mess.

She was just regaining her footing when something fell into her hair. Something small and wriggly. Something alive. It was quickly joined by two other somethings. Things were falling all around her, making muted plopping sounds as they hit the floor.

She reached up into her hair, and pulled out a worm.

Slowly, she looked up toward the ceiling. It was covered in worms. It was a pink, writhing, seething mass of wormy flesh. It undulated and flowed like water. And the sound they made! – it was a not quite dry, not quite wet, slithering sound. It was the sound Ranger had heard before he had been shot.

It seemed she had a worm infestation after all. Darn Grandma Mazur for mentioning it – Bella must have cottoned on, and thought it was a good idea.

A worm fell on her forehead then. Realizing that standing around slack jawed underneath a ceiling full of worms wasn't something she wanted to do, she clamped her mouth shut, aimed her face toward the floor, and ran to Ranger.

He was still alive, and it looked like the bleeding was slowing down, but he was very pale. Clearly this wasn't just a scratch they were dealing with this time. He took in her bedraggled appearance, and his lips quirked briefly. "Only you, Babe," he said. His voice was slightly laboured.

"Don't talk," she told him. She blinked rapidly, trying not to cry.

He looked up to the ceiling, and winced. "You have a worm infestation."

"I said don't talk," she repeated. "What if a worm falls in your mouth?" She reached forward to put pressure on his wound, but drew back almost immediately. Her hands dripped with ick. "I'm afraid to touch you."

"Best you didn't," he said. "I don't - " He winced horribly. " – want to stink either."

She choked back a laugh, horrified that he would try to make a joke at a time like this. Ranger's sense of humour was, to put it mildly, a bit warped. She looked around for something to wipe her hands on, and finally settled on the carpet. The house immediately gave another rending shake. Worms rained down on them, pelting off their skin.

"Ugh!" she grunted. She ran her hands through her hair to dislodge the uninvited vermin, and instantly regretted it; food-sticky curls and gunk on hands didn't mix. It took several good tugs to get her fingers free. She rubbed them on her shirt, but that was no good either; there were worms stuck in whatever stuff she had just rolled in.

"Okay, Babe?"

"Sure." She eyed the floor nervously; a pinky-brown wave was moving toward them in a slow creep. She bounced helplessly on her knees, trying to keep panic at bay. "Are you okay? What can I do? God, Ranger, I don't know what to do." Okay, so the bouncing didn't help. In fact, it seemed to be bouncing the tears out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

"Just stay calm," he told her. "Everything - " He sucked in air. "- is okay." he finished.

"Don't be an idiot," she snapped. "Of course it isn't okay."

"My men will come," he told her. She could tell he was trying for a soothing tone, but his pain was getting the better of him, and it came out sounding strained.

She didn't doubt that his men would come, but she feared the Merry Men would be too late to help either one of them. By the time they got here, she and Ranger were going to be smothered by worms. Or Ranger would be dead from the gunshot wound.

She had to get him out of there. If only she could break the window. She looked briefly at Ranger's gun, lying by his side.

"Don't even think about it," he said.

"I could throw it through the window," she said. "It's heavy enough to break it."

"No."

"But - "

A sudden tapping noise made Steph jump five feet in the air. She looked at the front window, and saw Marge Shifton, her nosy neighbour from the across the road. She was standing in Stephanie's garden, her face pressed up against the glass. She held a pair of binoculars in one hand, and a cell phone in the other. A Beretta peeked out of the pocket of her robe.

"I saw someone trying to break through your front door!" she shouted. "I wrote down the license plate number of the car one of them drove away in. I came over to see if you wanted the plate for the... for the..." Her voice trailed off as she squinted at the ceiling. "Why is your roof moving?... Holy crap! Are those worms?"

Deciding there was no time for explanations, Stephanie shouted, "Call the police! And an ambulance!"

"I already called the cops," Marge said. "I've been calling them all day – told them a bunch of thugs were stealing Bella's furniture. Then tonight I caught two of them poking around in my bushes, waving gadgets and looking all sneaky."

"So are they coming?"

"Who? The thugs?"

"The cops!"

Marge looked irate. "Cops said they had enough of my calls – said they wouldn't come. And they said that if I called them again today, they'd book me on nuisance charges." She sniffed disdainfully. "Can you believe that? My taxes pay their salaries, and this is the thanks I get. I tell you, one day they'll ignore me, and I'll be murdered in my bed. Only then will they learn."

Stephanie wanted to cry in frustration. "Call them again," she said. "Ask to speak to Joe Morelli. Tell him I need his help."

Ranger didn't look impressed. "Babe."

"I know, I know! But what choice do we have?"

"We can wait – for my men," he grunted stubbornly.

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "Oh, for Pete's sake, Ranger."

"I _was_ talking to Morelli," Marge interjected angrily. "He's the one who told me to bugger off."

She gaped at her neighbour. "Joe... won't help me?"

"Help you? What about _me_? First they steal your furniture, and then it's on to the old widow's house across the street! What do you need help for? You've already been cleaned out – all you can do now is wait for the insurance cheque."

"Call him back!" Stephanie shouted. "Tell him Stephanie needs help! Tell him I need an ambulance!"

"What for? You look alright to me. You know, except for all those worms in your hair, and all that shit on your clothes."

"Not for me! For him, goddamn it!" She gestured angrily at Ranger.

"Who?" Marge stood on tiptoe, nose, binoculars and phone pressed against the glass for balance. "Hey! That's that scary fellow you were chewing the lips off of this afternoon. He doesn't look so good."

Ranger made a pained sound that probably wasn't entirely brought on by the gunshot wound.

"You're right," Stephanie shouted, speaking slowly and succinctly. "Our phones are down – and we're trapped in the house. We need the police to come get us out. We would like to get out." The last was said through clenched teeth.

Clearly the urge to inform was stronger than her aversion to arrest, for Marge immediately let the binoculars fall around her neck before dialling 911. Two seconds later she was scowling at the Blackberry. "Damned piece of foreign Canadian shit," she shouted. "Battery's dead. I swear I just charged the thing." She shook it, as if hoping the physical motion would somehow recharge the battery.

Ranger and Stephanie looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. Chances were good that Marge didn't forget to charge the phone. Their thoughts were confirmed when, a second later, foreboding laughter filled the house.

Marge paused in mid-shake. "What was that?" she asked.

There was no time to answer. From down the block, there came a sudden screech of tires, and the sound of several high powered engines red-lining as they barrelled down the street.

"Finally," Ranger said. He gave his head a mild shake. "Can you help me, Babe? I've got worms – trying to crawl – in my ears..."

While Stephanie fished the worms out for Ranger, five black SUVs came to a precision halt in front of her sidewalk. Within moments, the lawn was covered with what looked like a tactical unit. Men scaled the fence and rounded the house to secure the back yard, while others took up positions on the street, keeping the road clear of cars and onlookers.

"I think they're setting up base camp," Stephanie said, straining to see out the window past the sea of black. Something that looked like a tent was being erected over the front walk.

Ranger sighed a little; military efficiency wasn't always a blessing. "Where's Tank?"

The large man was already at the window. He assessed the scene indoors quickly, and looked none too pleased. "You gonna live?" he asked. He sounded offhand, but his expression was anything but.

"I'll be fine - if these worms - don't smother me first," Ranger replied.

Tank grunted. He pointed to Hal, and ordered him to get the front door open, and sent more men around the back to work on the back door. It was only then that he saw Marge standing next to him. She was clutching her gun, phone and flashlight to her chest in an uneasy way. He nodded to her, and said, "Ma'am." Marge squeaked, and immediately took off for her house, bathrobe flapping.

Lester wandered over then. He took one look at the ceiling, and whistled. "That old lady doesn't know when to quit," he said. He saw Stephanie and Ranger then, and his eyes widened. "What the hell happened? She _shot you?!_"

Despite his pain, Ranger looked dangerous. "Santos..."

"How long has he been down?" Tank asked Stephanie.

This annoyed Ranger even more. "I can answer – for myself."

"About five minutes," Stephanie replied, ignoring him.

"It's – just a scratch," he insisted. But his eyes closed, and stayed closed.

Stephanie looked down at him, and forgot what to say in response when she saw the pool of blood slowly spreading out from under him. "Ranger? Ranger!" She shook his shoulder, and got no response. She immediately looked at Tank, terrified. "He's – I think - "

Tank didn't say anything. Instead, he pushed Lester out of the way, thudded out of the garden, put his shoulder down, and charged the door. The already ravaged wood blew apart on impact. Tank stumbled into the house in a hail of splinters, promptly collided with the edge of the tub, and fell in. There was, surprisingly, water in the tub, though Stephanie had no idea how it had gotten there.

"What the fuck!" Tank, being so large, didn't really fit in the tub, but his head and shirt were well soaked. He extricated himself from the tub, and promptly slipped in the toilet mess, which by this point had meandered to the front hall.

By the time Tank got himself upright, the living room was packed with Rangeman employees. Stephanie found herself shoved out of the way as Bobby Brown knelt down beside Ranger, medic kit in hand. Ranger quickly disappeared from view as his men surrounded him.

There was a lot of activity which she was hard pressed to see. "Get that stretcher in here!" she heard Brown shout. She caught a glimpse of him shoving a large padded bandage under Ranger's back. "Call ahead to emerg – tell them we'll be there in five minutes."

"Ranger!" She tried to break through the wall of black, but couldn't. And he didn't answer. When she finally saw him, as he was being loaded onto a stretcher, she saw that he was unconscious. His men handed him around the tub; two men immediately ran him to one of the larger vehicles, and slid him inside. Tank crawled in beside him. All the other men in the house gingerly stepped around the puddle of ooze, and stood on the lawn to watch the vehicle speed away.

Stephanie tried to follow the others, but was stopped by Bobby. "Are you alright?" he asked her. He gently pushed her face up and to one side, and frowned at the bruises around her neck. He also wrinkled his nose a little, and she was sure it wasn't because her injuries disgusted him.

"Is Ranger going to be okay?" she demanded.

Bobby didn't answer her. "Let's get you out of here, okay? Ranger asked me to look you over, make sure you were okay."

She sighed a little in relief – so he had been conscious enough to speak to Bobby. That was good news. "I want to go to the hospital."

He looked surprised. "Are you that badly hurt?"

"Not for me! I want to be with Ranger!"

"Whoa, honey!" Bobby said, grabbing her. "Slow down!"

"No! I've got to be with him! I - !"

Her words became a screech of horror and disgust when all the worms on the ceiling and walls fell down upon them.

It hurt to be hit by so many worms all at once; it was like being hit with water, and the force of the creatures pushed them both down onto their knees. Stephanie raised her hands to shield her head and neck, amazed at how long the worms continued to fall. Surely there weren't this many worms on her ceiling! But it was a good ten seconds before the deluge slowed down to a random smattering. She gingerly lifted her head, and was shocked to find she was almost buried in her crouched position. She stood up quickly, and began brushing herself off frantically.

"What the FUCK!" Bobby hollered. He danced from one foot to the other, knee deep in worms. He swiped at his hair madly, trying to get the critters out. "Awww, fuck fuck fuck!"

The eerie silence was suddenly filled with laughter. Stephanie panicked; but it wasn't Bella. A crowd of Merry Men stood in the doorway, laughing at them. At first shocked at the injured state of their boss, they were more than happy to find sudden levity, and they were taking advantage of Bobby and Stephanie's misfortune. The only one who didn't look amused was Hal; he stood there, the pry bar still in his hands, his face turning green.

"You are such a pussy, Brown," someone commented. "It's just a bunch of bitty worms."

Bobby was wading his way to the door. "They're fucking slimy!" he shouted. "Someone get a hose!" His foot met the ooze from the toilet, hidden under the worms, and he fell down, disappearing completely under the invertebrates.

Stephanie, angered at the guffaws this display produced, stepped forward to help Bobby to his feet. He came up spluttering, spitting out worms. "Gross! Eew! They taste and smell like... old lady!"

This was met with great hilarity. "I didn't know you were familiar with the taste of old lady!" came an anonymous comment, though it sounded suspiciously like Lester. There was more laughter, and some groans.

Steph wasn't laughing. Bobby was right; the worms smelt like an old lady's perfume and body odour. And they _were_ a bit slimy. Or maybe they had just picked up some residue off the floor around the tub.

The two of them stepped carefully, but between the toilet offering and the spilt water from the bathtub, they were on unsteady ground. Stephanie slipped and fell to one knee, crying out. At the sound of her voice, the men forgot they still had a job to do, and immediately sprang into action.

She smiled in relief as she reached for their outstretched hands. But before one man could step across the threshold, a face suddenly appeared. It loomed at them, filling the entire doorway. It was skeletal, tattered flesh and muscle dripping from its cheekbones, eye sockets empty and dark. Its jaw fell open, and it screamed in Bella's voice, "_GET OUT!"_

The sight of ten large and burly men falling over themselves to get away would have been amusing under different circumstances. As it was, it wasn't very funny to Stephanie, especially when she saw most of them were jumping into their vehicles and speeding away. "No! Come back here!" Stephanie shouted at them.

The skull turned on her. Stephanie immediately blanched, and fell back on her butt. Beside her, she heard Bobby inhale sharply, and mutter, "Sweet Jesus."

"You get out, too," the skull said. A moment later, Bobby was moving through the air as if being carried by invisible hands. The skull moved out of the doorway, and Bobby was thrown out, like a drunk from an old west saloon.

Stephanie frantically crawled toward the door, intent on getting out before she too was pitched out onto the sidewalk. But a pair of thin legs covered in support hose suddenly appeared before her, blocking her way.

She looked up. Bella stood over her, smiling. She held a club in her hand. It looked like what Fred used to clonk dinosaurs with on the Flintstones.

"You aren't going anywhere," she told her. And before Stephanie could offer any kind of protest, the club came down on her head, and it was lights out.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N** – Hey, how about that! Another segment! Do I rock or what? 'course, you're all going to think I'm a wee bit weird once you finish reading this section (not that some of you don't already think that). He he he!

Ta, J.

--

Stephanie woke up, lying on top of the kitchen table.

Her head hurt horribly, but not enough to completely confound her. She could see enough from her vantage point to know that she was in the kitchen of her house. It was still in a state of ruin, and smelled strongly of pudding and rotten fruit. The light above her head swayed back and forth limply on one chain. It was blindingly bright.

Bella was working away at the counter, humming contentedly. It sounded like she was cutting something with a knife. _Chop chop chop._

There was another noise too, but it was quieter, in the background. This sounded like pounding, something solid being hit over and over. And she heard her name being called, but it was coming from too far away for her to be sure if she was imagining things.

Stephanie tried to raise her arm to wipe the weariness out of her eyes, but it wouldn't move – and she realized, to her horror, that something was holding her arms and legs in place. As soon as she shifted her extremities, the grip on them immediately tightened. She looked about her frantically, and sucked in air when she realized she couldn't see anyone or anything actually holding her. But the hands holding her were real enough – and she could hear raspy breathing coming from the four corners of the table.

"Oh, good – you're awake." Bella spoke but didn't turn around. She picked up a cutting board, and used an insanely huge knife to scrape carrot coins into a large pot of water. She set the cutting board back down, and turned toward Stephanie, knife in hand. The old country black dress was gone. In its place, Bella wore a short sleeved dress, complete with petticoats to make the skirt flair, a frilly homemaker's smock, and a string of pearls. She looked like a demented Julia Child.

"Oh, fuck," Steph muttered. This did not look good.

"I'm making stew for my Joseph," Bella said. She smiled, her face achieving a sweetness she was never able to convey in life. She walked over to Stephanie, knife in hand. "Nothing mends a broken heart faster than Grandma Bella's stew."

"Is that right?" Stephanie asked, too afraid to ask what she needed the knife for.

"Of course – beef stew, with lots of vegetables, chunks of potato, two cans of beer... and a special ingredient."

The knife rose in the air; Stephanie tracked it with her eyes. "Which is?"

"A heart." Grandma Bella smiled again. Her teeth looked suddenly pointy. "Some people use a bay leaf, but I prefer a heart. You don't eat it. You pop it in for flavour, and scoop it out just before you serve the stew."

She immediately had a bad taste in her mouth. It was the taste of fear. "What a relief. I know I wouldn't want to find a pig heart in my bowl," she said hopefully.

Bella laughed. "Pig heart," she said. "You're funny."

"Stephanie!" There was her name again, and the insistent pounding noise, only now it was louder. She turned her face in the direction of the noise, and saw a sea of Merry Men looking at her through the kitchen window.

_They came back!_ Stephanie thought giddily. But of course they came back. Once they calmed down a little after seeing Bella's huge skull, they must have realized that Ranger was going to kick their butts if they didn't go back to rescue his Babe. So there they were – Ranger's finest, standing at her back window, beating the glass with hammers, lumber, shoes, whatever they could find - and not a single one produced even a hairline fracture.

"Of course, you can't use just any old heart," Bella said. She turned suddenly, heading back to the counter, and set the pot on the stove. She turned on the element. Whatever food had been smeared on the element instantly set on fire; plumes of smoke filled the air. She happened to glance out the window, saw the Merry Men, and shut the curtains on them.

The pounding efforts doubled, and also spread to the door and side window.

Bella once again approached the table with her knife. "For my poor Joseph's heart to mend, he's going to need a very special heart for his stew... the heart of a former lover. The heart of a person who stomped his to pieces. By giving up their own heart, they are ensuring that Joseph may once more find his heart whole and healed."

Stephanie didn't like where this was going. She tugged her arms and legs, but the invisible hands holding her only grew stronger. "That sounds... um..."

Bella leaned over her, nose an inch from Stephanie's face. "And do you know who is going to provide the heart for Joseph's stew?" she asked sweetly.

"Um..."

"That's right! You are!" Bella immediately raised the knife high above her head, ready to plunge it deep in Stephanie's chest. Her face was a warped mask of anger and insanity.

"WAIT!" Stephanie screamed.

Bella looked annoyed, but paused in mid-strike. "What?"

"That knife is... no good!"

Bella's arms dropped just a little. "It isn't?"

"No! It's, uh, too small! Yeah! Too small to cut through me! You need a bigger one!"

The knife immediately grew six inches in length. "How's that?" Bella asked.

Stephanie swallowed. "Well... that's okay. But you'd be better off with something a little... toothier... You know, maybe we should go down to the basement and root around for something. I'm sure Joe left some tools down there that would - "

The knife morphed one more time, this time into a saw. "This is a great idea!" Bella told Stephanie. "Now I just have to saw you down the middle and pull everything out. I'll be done in no time." She lined up the pointy teeth on Stephanie's middle, changed her mind, and pulled her T-shirt out of the way. "Don't want to ruin your nice shirt," she said, replacing the blade on her now naked skin.

Stephanie nearly wet her pants when she felt the teeth prickling her flesh. "Ah! No! I mean, God no please don't saw me in ha - !"

They barely heard the angry hissing sound over Stephanie's protests. Bella's head rose immediately. She looked over at the stove. The stew pot was boiling over.

"Son of a bitch!" Bella dropped the saw on Steph's stomach, and ran for the stove. With a grunt, she shifted the huge pot off the element, and removed the lid. "Goddamn it!" she shouted. "I hate it when pots boil over. It makes such a mess." She grabbed a cloth, and started to wipe up the stove top and element.

Stephanie, meanwhile, started bouncing her torso up and down. The saw bumped along a few times, overbalanced, and tipped onto the floor. It was only a partial victory; the instant the saw fell, an invisible hand slapped down on Stephanie's chest, and pressed her flat on the table. The message was clear: lie still, or else.

She let out a breath that was a prequel to a sob. She glanced at the door and the side window; she could see shadows moving out there, but no distinct shapes. The pounding on the doors and windows was incessant. How was Bella able to manage it, reinforcing the windows and doors, keeping herself corporeal and Stephanie bound? Surely she'd run out of energy and –

She fell still as her thinking led her to an idea.

Bella finished her cleanup, reset the pot on the element, and turned down the heat. "Now where were we? Oh, yes – the heart." She rummaged around in a drawer, and pulled out a wooden spoon. She marched back to Stephanie, picked up the saw without comment, and lined it up again with the bottom of Stephanie's rib cage. She then held the wooden spoon up to Stephanie's mouth. "Want to bite on this?" she asked.

"Aren't you going to disinfect the saw?" Stephanie said.

"Why? I hardly think you'll be bothered by infection once you're dead." Bella laughed a little at her own wit.

"Yeah, but – what about Joe? What if your dirty blade infects my heart, and infects your soup? What if Joe gets sick and dies?"

Bella looked like she was actually contemplating it. Then she shook her head, and slid the saw blade an inch closer to Stephanie's pubic bone. She slapped a hand down on Steph's hip for leverage. "Okay," she said. "Take a deep breath, and - "

"That's too low," Stephanie said.

Bella sighed. "What's too low?"

"The saw blade. It's too low on my torso. Don't you know where the heart is?"

Annoyance flashed in Bella's eyes. "Of course I know where the heart is! You think this is the first time I've done this?"

"Really? Could have fooled me. I mean, look - you're going to cut through my intestines. You'll have to work past my intestines and liver and stomach, just to reach my heart. That sounds like a lot of unnecessary work, if you ask me."

"Well, as it happens, no one was asking you, so you can just - "

"I'd go for around armpit level, myself. Of course, you'll have to cut through the rib cage. Are you strong enough to saw through bone? Because I don't want to spend the next half hour watching the flab on your arms swing back and forth as you try and cut through my ribs."

Bella's free hand flew to a triceps muscle. "Flab?" she shouted. "I don't have flab!"

"Arm flaps, then," Stephanie amended. "And, while we're on the subject of loose skin, you have a neck wattle, too."

"A _what?!_" Bella screeched.

She squinted at the offending appendage, and winced. "Your neck wattle is getting bunched up in your pearls," she said. "It looks... well, it looks bad. I'd stick to turtle necks if I were you. Just makes sure you tuck that puppy down and not up."

Bella's face turned puce. She slapped the saw down again, and started rubbing her hands over her arms and neck. Slowly, as if by magic, the flaps and flab disappeared, only to become smooth skin.

At the same moment, there was a loud cracking sound, and the tinkling of glass. Stephanie wanted to shout for joy – a Merry Man was peeking at her through a hole in the side glass window.

It was working; the more she pissed off Bella, the more energy she would use, and the weaker she would become. Steph tugged at the hands holding her, and discovered there was now some give. Yes; it really was working!

The Merry Man clearly couldn't understand why Stephanie was grinning, given there was an insane ghost standing over her with a saw, ready to commit carnage. He said something to those behind him, and the attack on the windows and doors resumed. He reached a beefy arm through the hole, and rooted sightlessly for the deadbolt on the door.

Bella gave up grooming long enough to see what was happening. "Oh, no you don't!" She picked up the saw, transformed it into a meat cleaver, and raced for the door.

"Look out!" Stephanie screeched.

Ranger's man looked through the window, saw what was coming, and withdrew quickly, glass scratching the length of his arm in the process. His arm disappeared just in time; the meat cleaver went down a millimetre from the opening.

Bella withdrew the blade with a grunt. "Try that again, you pussies!"

No arm came back in, but the nozzle of a shotgun did. It went off a foot from her, with a deafening blam.

Bella shrieked, and dropped the cleaver. A large, plate sized hole was centred right in her torso. She bent over, as if trying to get a look through herself, and bellowed with rage. "This was my best house frock!"

There was an answering shout from outside, only this one was jubilant. The nozzle of the gun reappeared, and fired again. _Plunk! _Bella's arm, severed at the elbow, fell off onto the floor. A couple of small pieces fell out after it. The pieces looked like worms.

"Now that does it!" Bella screamed. She reached down, grabbed the cleaver, and rushed for Stephanie.

"What about the saw?" Stephanie asked.

"Fuck the saw! I'm going to chop you into pieces, and pull your still beating heart out with my teeth!"

Bella raised the cleaver as far above her head as it would go. Stephanie saw the pure, unadulterated rage in the ghost's face, and knew that this was it – she was dead. She was going to become a ghost herself. She tried not to scream, but she couldn't help herself.

Bella laughed triumphantly. "Say goodnight, bitch!" she shouted, as she swung the cleaver down towards Stephanie's heart.

A large hand shot out, and grabbed Bella's wrist, stopping the knife's downward motion an inch from Stephanie's chest. Stephanie screamed again, surprised by the sudden intervention. Her screamed died when she saw who the hand belonged to.

Bella, meanwhile, gave a long cry of frustration and rage. "Who do you - !!" Like Stephanie, her voice failed her when she saw who had stopped her. Her face, already pale, went white. "Oh!"

Joe Morelli stood over both of them, looking pissed off.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N** - Thank you for all your reviews! Now let's let the fun begin! All the best, J.

--

"Joseph!" Bella, originally shocked by the appearance of her grandson, was now beaming with delight. "My Joseph! I'm so happy to see you!"

Morelli gave her a thin-lipped smile that didn't hold much love. He reached up, and plucked the knife out of the Bella's hand. He waved it in her face. "What are you up to, Bella? You aren't threatening to make stew again, are you?"

She immediately looked abashed. "But – Joseph! I was only - !"

"Stow it," he said. He threw the knife away. He brushed past his grandmother, and knelt beside the table. The smile he gave Stephanie was much warmer than the one he just gave Bella.

"Are you okay?" He brushed back her hair, then made a face, and looked at his hand. "What have you been rolling in, Cupcake?"

They were distracted by a voice from the front hall. "Nuh-uh. I ain't going in there."

"Come on! She said she needed our help!"

"You see all that nasty shit in the hall? I ain't walking through that – I'm wearing Jimmy Choo's. I like Steph just fine, but I ain't ruining my Jimmy Choo's by walking in that mess. Girlfriend will understand."

"For a former ho, you sure are a bit squeamish about miscellaneous fluids."

"There ain't nothing miscellaneous about that fluid. That there is shit. The industrial strength kind; the kind that don't wash off. Hey! Let go my arm! Hey! Watch the – aigh! Fuck! Worms! There are worms everywhere!"

"Well, I'll be – so that's what a worm infestation looks like. It's a lot pinker than I expected."

Bella's face darkened. "You left the front door open, Joseph. Now there are pests in the house."

Stephanie tried to look down the hall, but from her vantage point, she couldn't see them. "Grandma Mazur? Lula?"

Sure enough, the two women stumbled into the kitchen. Steph saw Lula go white in fear. "Holy shit," she said. "It's her. It's the ghost."

"And she has no middle," Grandma Mazur said, staring at what wasn't there. "Looks like someone threw a bowling ball right through her."

Morelli frowned at them. "I thought I told you two to wait in the car."

"We got bored," Grandma Mazur said. "Plus, we wanted to help with the ass kicking." Lula, stiff with fear, said nothing.

Stephanie stared at her grandmother incredulously. "I asked you to bring help, and you brought Lula?"

That brought Lula out of her paralysis. "What you say? Oh sure – Lula's good enough to call when you need your furniture rearranged, but not good enough to call for a rescue! Thanks a lot!"

"I brought Joseph, too," Grandma Mazur said. "And I would have brought Mooner and Dougie, but they couldn't come – a Deep Space 9 marathon was on."

"Why are you lying on the table?" Lula asked.

"Yeah – are you tired?"

Just remembering why she was on the table got Stephanie shaking. "She tried to – to cut out my heart!"

"It's okay," Morelli said. He smoothed back more of her hair, this time without comment. "She's been threatening to cut out all my ex-girlfriends hearts since junior high. I never thought she would actually go through with it, though."

"She tried to cut out your heart?" Lula looked over at Bella. "You are one nasty ghost, you know that?"

"Not as nasty as your face," Bella retorted.

Lula switched into rhino mode. "One-armed she-troll."

"Whore!"

"I ain't no whore no more! And at least I can decorate! This house looks like bad taste threw up all over it!"

Bella gasped in outrage. "How dare you!"

"I'm feeling a little left out here," Grandma Mazur said. "Can I call someone a whore or a troll too?"

Morelli sighed. "I knew I should have just stayed in bed," he muttered to himself. He stood up, and held out a hand, an offer to help Stephanie up.

"I can't," she said. "I'm – something's holding me - " She tugged her arms and legs in illustration.

Joe frowned at the table legs. He obviously didn't see anything, but when he reached down to investigate, he drew back his hand before he reached the table. "Jesus," he said. Then he stood up, and delivered a kick toward the leg. There was a dull thud, followed by an angry squeal. Stephanie's hand immediately came free. She brought it up to her face; it smelled like it had come in contact with some animal. She wondered just what had been holding her.

"You call them off, Bella," Joe said threateningly.

Bella gave him a look of feigned innocence. "'Them'? But Joseph; clearly there's nothing - "

Morelli aimed a boot at another table leg; there was another howl of pain, and the distinct sound of toenails on the floor as something scampered away.

"Ooh!" Lula jumped three feet in the air. "Something just touched me! Something scaly! Ew, yuck! Someone get me a washcloth and disinfectant."

Morelli looked at Bella, and raised an eyebrow.

"Alright! Alright!" Bella sighed dramatically, then made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

Stephanie was immediately released, and with Morelli's help, rose to a sitting position. He pulled her in for a rough embrace.

"You okay, Cupcake?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know." She sighed, and settled into his familiar chest.

There was a knocking sound from the back door. Lester peeked at them through the hole in the window. He did not look pleased; clearly the loyalty the men had for Ranger was reflected on many levels.

"Comfy?" he asked dryly.

Steph immediately jumped out of Morelli's arms. Morelli grinned a little. She straightened her shirt, and tried not to look guilty. "I was just - "

"Don't worry about it, Beautiful. Just open the door for us, okay?"

"Oh, look!" Grandma Mazur said. "It's Hot Stuff! Hi there! Yoo-hoo!"

"Hot Stuff?" Lula peered at Lester. "You been fooling around with Steph's granny?"

"He's got a nice can," Grandma Mazur said. "Nice and firm – like a couple of cantaloupes."

There was muffled laughter from Lester's side the door. Lester looked pained. "Jeez, lady – will shut up?" His face disappeared from the hole, and he was heard to shout, "And you guys shut up too! She's a pervert, man! Worse than me!"

Morelli was the only one to look sympathetic. "He's right, you know."

"So sue me," Grandma Mazur said. "I'm an old lady. If I can't pinch a cute tooshy now and then, and make a few ribald comments, then what's the point in being alive?"

Bella rolled her eyes. "Why am I just standing here, listening to this?" She raised her good hand, and opened her mouth wide to summon trouble to her.

Joe saw her, and shook his head. "Don't even think about it." Bella scowled, but lowered her arm.

Steph, meanwhile, had flicked the deadbolt, and pulled on the handle. The door banged open unexpectedly, and a small flood of Merry Men fell in. More than a few eyed Bella with outright nervousness, their guns drawn. They also looked annoyed to see Morelli, Grandma Mazur, and Lula had gained entrance with little or no effort.

Morelli, meanwhile, had turned his attention back to Bella. "I thought we agreed that you were going to move out."

Bella folded one arm and the stump of another arm across her chest. "You agreed; I did no such thing."

"Whoa, wait a minute!" Stephanie said. She turned on Morelli. "You _knew_ this house was haunted – and you didn't tell me?!"

He very nearly rolled his eyes. "Come on, Steph – you were uncomfortable enough moving in here, just knowing it was Bella's house. You would have been a basket case if you knew the house was haunted by Bella."

Bella harrumphed. "You should have figured I'd be here when you read my will."

Stephanie blinked incredulously. "You _planned_ on being a ghost after you died?"

"You can do that?" Grandma Mazur looked thoughtful. "I should keep that in mind. I'd haunt your father day and night."

"Regardless," Morelli said, patience thinning, "Bella and I decided it would be easier for everyone if she just... moved on for awhile. I never saw her again, so I assumed she had left – like we discussed." He looked at Bella pointedly. "I guess you never left."

"Of course not. This is my house." Seeing Morelli's angry expression, she went on the defensive. "What? You didn't know that I was here! I gave you your privacy, didn't I? I tolerated your intrusion. I caused no trouble while you were here."

_Babe, this house is overwhelmingly angry. It's not a surprise that you and Morelli had problems, why you're so unhappy now. This is not a happy house._ Ranger's voice and words were in Stephanie's head instantly. He had been right all along. While it may or may not have been her intent to make trouble for her grandson and his wife, Bella had done so anyway.

"When I came in here, you were trying to kill Stephanie!"

"I was not," Bella said primly.

"Jesus, Grandma! You were going to cut out her heart and serve it to me!"

Hal turned pale at this news. "Eew," he said.

"But you don't know what she did! She deserved death, and not only for how she treated you! She broke my seashell lamp! She took down my curtains! My velvet curtains, from the sitting room, Joseph!"

"Good; those were ugly. They looked like they belonged in Liberace's library."

Bella gasped. "Joseph!"

"See?" Lula said. "I told you, didn't I?"

Morelli sighed. "Stephanie's not a seventy year old woman. She doesn't want to look at collections of ceramic cats, or ugly seashell lamps. She has the right to make this house hers – so don't whine to me if she smashed a couple of knick-knacks, or let some light into the house."

Bella's gums flapped in indignation. Then some sense of dignity came to her. She raised herself to her full height, a look of self-importance on her face. She would have looked much more impressive if she had had both arms, and a full torso instead one you could see through.

"I think you should know, Joseph," she said primly, "that you have been... cuckolded."

Stephanie immediately went pale. _Uh-oh,_ she thought.

Morelli waited a beat before laughing. "What?"

Bella let her annoyance slip. "She took that Ranger man into _your_ wedding bed. This very evening! Your _wife_ has made a fool of you! I had every right to avenge you!"

Morelli stopped laughing. He turned, and gave Stephanie a penetrating look. She shrank down to the size of a peanut, and gave him a nervous smile. "Heh," she said.

Behind her, there was an appreciative and somewhat knowing murmur from the Merry Men. Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw money exchange hands.

Lula, meanwhile, gave a jubilant whoop. "'bout time, girlfriend! God, that man is hot! I don't know how you held out for so long, what with all those trips to the alley by the bond's office, and all that smooching..."

"Lula..." Steph said warningly. Morelli was giving her one of those looks that Desi gave to Lucy every time she did something stupid.

"No kidding!" Grandma Mazur said. "I was beginning to think she didn't have much sense. I know if I had a hot guy panting over me like that, I'd ride him like Zorro."

"Amen!" They high-fived; and all the Merry Men shivered at the imagery.

"You see?" Bella shouted, triumphant. "Everyone knew of their indiscretions! They've been playing you for a fool for years!"

The room fell suddenly quiet as all eyes turned toward Morelli. He stood, jaw tight, hands fisted by his sides, eyes focused on the ground. Trying to get himself under control.

"Joe?" Stephanie asked timidly.

He raised his head, and glared at her. She took a step back, though she knew he would never hurt her physically. Still, she had hurt him with this news, and she wasn't sure what he would do. She waited. Everyone waited.

Finally, he turned back to Bella, and said, "Stephanie and I have been separated for months. Who she chooses to... entertain is none of my business."

Bella squinted and raised a finger. "But you're still married, aren't you?"

Everyone leaned forward, waiting to hear the answer. The Merry Men seemed particularly interested.

Morelli scowled lightly. "Technically... yes. The divorce just hasn't been finalized. My lawyer says it will go through in the next few weeks."

"Then she has been unfaithful!" Bella was once again triumphant. She looked at Stephanie, and sneered, "Hussy!"

"No, she hasn't." He sounded vehement.

"No, she's right." Stephanie looked resigned. "I have been unfaithful. Joe and I are still married." She thought of Dickie, boinking Joyce Barnhardt on her dining room table, and wanted to die of humiliation; she was no better than the Dickhead.

Morelli came over, and took hold of her by the shoulders. "Listen to me, Stephanie," he said. "We haven't been together for over six months. And let's face it – things were falling apart well before we split. You have nothing to feel guilty for. Do you understand me?"

She stared at him for a long time. There was something in his expression that made her suspicious... "You're seeing someone else, aren't you?"

He stared back, before grinning with no shame. "Yeah," he said. "I should have told you, but..."

She waved him off, along with the pang of jealousy she felt at the thought of him being with someone else. The overwhelming sense of relief was far too great for her to feel much anger. It was well and truly over between them, and while it was sad, it was liberating too.

A tiny doubt niggled at the back of her mind. What if Ranger had been right, that Bella's bad vibes had been responsible for her breakup from Morelli? What if, after a few months, Morelli wanted to get back together with her? What if, after a couple of months of not living in this house with Bella's ever oppressive presence, Stephanie wanted to get back together with Joe?

_With any luck,_ she thought,_ I won't be alone._ And she smiled a little, thinking of Ranger.

Bella looked disgusted. "Joseph, you are far too forgiving of this slut."

Morelli sighed, and turned to his grandmother. "Bella... you won. Stephanie and I are good and over. So accept your victory, and leave."

"Leave? I'm not leaving!"

"Yes, you are. You have no other reason to be here."

If Lula went into rhino mode, then Bella went into mule mode. "This is my house! _Mine!_ And I'm staying!"

He pulled out a piece of paper, and opened it up for her to see. "I contested the provisions you made in your will. The judge agreed that they were ridiculous, and threw them out."

The ghost snatched the paper out of Morelli's hand. She scanned the document quickly, and gasped. "You – you – you deeded the house over to _her_!"

Morelli nodded. "I did. Like I told you – the house is Stephanie's, not yours."

Stephanie couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I own this house?" she asked him.

He turned to her and gave her a bittersweet smile. "It seemed only right."

"Man," she heard one of the Merry Men mutter. "This place is a dump. I wouldn't want it."

"Just you wait," whispered another. "Ranger's going to make us clean all this shit up."

Bella, meanwhile, had turned to pleading as a new tact. "Joseph! My favourite grandson! You can't do this to me!"

"Sure I can. You deeded the house to me upon your death. I choose to give it to Stephanie – and she can do anything she wants with it." He smiled. "Personally, I hope she decides to sell it; maybe to a nice family of Irish immigrants."

Bella's face turned purple with rage. "You don't mean that!"

He was no longer smiling. "I do," he said, in all seriousness. "You no longer have any ties to this house."

Bella turned redder and redder. Then slowly, she started to fade from view – and the house started to shake.

"Uh-oh," Stephanie said, taking a step closer to Morelli.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N - **Thanks again for your feedback! J.

--

"This don't look good," Lula said.

The house was shaking so badly that Stephanie had to hold onto Morelli - and he had to hold onto the counter. She nodded in agreement. "Bad things happen when Bella disappears."

Bella's voice seemed to echo from all corners of the house. "You think you can take away what is rightfully mine? We'll see about that! If you don't leave this house this instant, I'll - !"

A sudden howling wind drowned out all sound. It whipped up the garbage and junk on the floor, twirling in through the kitchen in a mad whirlwind that sent everyone ducking for cover. At the same time, all the lights came on in the house – and everything electrical kicked in. It was a cacophony of noise and light, an overload of the senses.

"Is she always this bad?" Morelli shouted at Stephanie, from their hiding place under the table.

Stephanie shielded her eyes as she looked into the whirlwind. Bella stood in the middle of it, waving her arm and stump wildly, screaming soundlessly into the wind. She looked... afraid.

"She isn't doing this," Stephanie said in wonder. "This is someone else."

As they watched, the tornado slowly picked Bella off the ground. The ghost was fighting it, writhing this way and that, shouting and screaming, but to no avail. She spun helplessly around in circles several times, before slowly sinking down into the base of the whirlwind, stretching as she went. Eventually she was so elongated and was spinning so quickly that Stephanie couldn't tell where the whirlwind ended and Bella began. She could just sense a dark streak that stretched through the tornado. It slowly disappeared through the floor, and was gone.

Bella's disappearance didn't stop the whirlwind, or the power surge. Instead, it seemed to spread throughout the house. The noise was deafening, the ground was unsteady as the building shook violently, and there was so much debris flying around them that Stephanie could no longer safely watch. Above it all was the loud hum and crackle of electricity. She buried her head in her arms, and whimpered, though no one could hear her.

Morelli draped his arm and torso over her, shielding her from one side. Another body slid in opposite Morelli, cocooning her totally from the storm. If she had dared to open her eyes, she knew she would have seen nothing but black cargos and military garb. Ranger's Merry Men had come through for her again.

All the light bulbs exploded, plunging the house into darkness. And things were burning as well, but it was a metallic burning. The motors on all her appliances were burning out, and judging by the clanging and banging, causing other parts to break as well.

Then suddenly it was over. It was like someone had thrown a switch; the storm just died instantly. Machines that had been working beyond their manufacturer's recommended specs slowly died down with a whine and whimper. Stephanie lay huddled for several seconds, not quite believing it was over, the sound of the wind still ringing in her ears and vibrating through her skin.

Morelli moved beside her. "You okay?"

"Uh... think so."

A small light flicked on. She looked behind her, and saw Hal was pressed up against her back – he had been the one to protect her from the windstorm. He was holding his maglite. Other flashlights were coming on around them, bathing the kitchen in a weak light.

She gave Hal a feeble smile. He returned the smile in the same weak-kneed fashion.

"Oh – Hot Stuff! This is so sudden!"

A dozen beams of light came to focus on the voice. They illuminated Lester, lying on top of Grandma Mazur. She had a look of rapture on her face. Lester did not – quite the opposite in fact.

"No! No no no! I was just protecting her from the - ! Aw, shit!" He struggled to get up.

Grandma Mazur was having none of it. She grabbed him by his shirt front, and dragged him back down on top of her. "You saved me! Come here!"

"Aaah! No way! Get away from me! MMMPH!"

Hal watched the clinch as he and Morelli helped Stephanie out from under the table. "She's pretty strong," he remarked. "You know – for an old lady."

Lula, meanwhile, was in her own little heaven – it had taken four of the Merry Men to protect her from the destruction. "Mmm-hmm," she said. "You boys can come over and cover me up any old time."

One of them gave her a smile. "I'd take you up on that offer, ma'am," he said, "if I didn't know that Tank would rip my arms off."

While the remaining men pried Grandma Mazur off of Lester (though they were noticeably slow in doing so), Morelli made his way to the light switch. "Bulb's broken," he said, flicking the switch up and down a few times. "I think they all must be out."

Stephanie borrowed Hal's flashlight to find her way to the candle drawer. It was only then that she noticed the room. "Holy shit!" she cried.

"What?" Morelli asked. Then he noticed it too. And so did the others.

"Hey!" Lula said. "This place ain't trashed no more!"

It wasn't. The kitchen was sparkling, with everything put back in its place. A quick glance down the hall seemed to indicate that the cleanup had spread to the rest of the house as well; the bathtub was no longer blocking the hall, and there was no evidence that a toilet had regurgitated all over the floor. Not only that, but everything that was broken had been repaired, including:

"My cookie jar!" Stephanie ran over to the counter, picked it up, and hugged it to her. She opened the lid, and shone the flashlight inside. "There are cookies in here!" she cried. She took three out, and shoved them all in her mouth. "Mmmmm!" These cookies were by far the best tasting cookies she had ever eaten.

"Give me some," Lula said. "I could use some sugar and fat after all that wrath of God shit."

It turned out everyone wanted cookies – particularly the Rangeman employees, who felt they also deserved a little sugar and fat after all that, the wishes of their boss be damned. Stephanie passed around the cookie jar, and looked at the fridge. Would her luck hold? She opened the door, and sure enough, she found cold beer inside. The fridge itself wasn't working – it probably burnt out in the power surge – but that hardly seemed important right now. She had cookies, and she had beverages. It was like all her wishes were coming true at once.

The sugar break had barely started before the Merry Men sprung back into action. "We're going to check out the rest of the house, Ms. Plum," Hal said. "Er, Mrs. Morelli." He looked awkwardly at Joe, then took off for the front hall, face flaming.

"Once we're done, we're going to go to the hospital," Bobby said.

Stephanie slapped a hand onto her forehead. "Oh my God! Ranger!"

Bobby gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know - we forgot too, but I don't think anyone will blame us. Give us five minutes, and we'll be on our way."

"I want to go now!"

"It might be better if we all went - "

"Now!" She looked at Morelli pleadingly. "Joe?"

He was already looking for his keys. "You guys see Lula and Mrs. Mazur home, and I'll take Stephanie over. Which hospital is he at?"

Stephanie bit her lip and wrung her hands for about the first two blocks, berating herself mentally for forgetting about Ranger. How could she have forgotten him? How - ?

"It felt different in there."

She looked over at him, confused. "What?"

"The house. It felt different, after. Don't you think?"

She had no idea what he was talking about. Then she got it - he was trying to distract her. She sighed. "I guess."

"Well, it did to me. It felt..." Not a man to easily express himself, he struggled to find the appropriate word.

"Lighter," she finally suggested.

"Yeah. It's like the ceiling is higher, or something."

She nodded. "Yeah."

They fell silent again. It was only then that she was finally willing to admit that Bella was well and truly gone. She had only been in there for a few minutes since Bella's removal, but even in that time, she could feel a difference. The house felt... happy.

That made her wonder who was responsible for ridding her of her mess and ghost. She asked hesitantly, "Do you really think it was like Lula said? That, you know..."

"You're wondering if it was God who came in and did all this?"

She nodded, feeling just a bit stupid. "Yeah."

He looked thoughtful. "Hard to say, Cupcake."

She agreed. It was hard to say – but if it was true, it certainly raised a whole host of questions that only time and few more beers would be able to answer.

"He's going to be okay, you know."

"Huh?"

"Ranger." He looked like he was going to say something else, but he frowned, and closed his mouth instead.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't help but smile, just a little.

"There's just one think I don't get."

He laughed. "You're lucky if there's only one thing you don't understand about all this."

"Someone put a video projector in one of the walls, and - "

He was laughing before she could finish her question. "Shit – I forgot about that. That was Eddie."

Her jaw dropped. "Eddie?"

"One night after having a few beers, I told the guys about seeing Bella's ghost." He was still laughing. "Eddie thought it would be funny to play it up a bit, so he and Big Dog grabbed some impounded equipment, and had an ex-con they knew put it in. The guy specialized in storefront displays before he was booked for embezzlement."

She gaped at him. "So the whole thing was... a practical joke?"

He nodded. "It wasn't a bad one either. You were away with your sister and her kids, and I got called out of town on assignment; it gave them enough time to get in and set it all up. I got home before you did. I nearly pissed my pants when I looked up, and saw Bella standing in the front window, giving me the finger." He turned the corner - the hospital was only a block away now. "Eddie said he got the footage from a wedding he was at a few years ago."

"Why on earth didn't you take it out?"

He shrugged. "I thought it would be good for Halloween – I know how much you like it. We could have projected pictures of ghosts or skeletons, or whatever. So I thought I'd keep it as a surprise. And then you and I... Well, I guess I just forgot it was there."

"It's been going off for the last month," she told him.

He frowned at that. "I know it runs remotely. Maybe one of his kids got a hold of the remote by accident. I'll check it out."

"It's out of the wall now, anyway – but you tell him that he and Big Dog owe me a steak dinner at Rosselli's." She thought a little longer. "And they have to pay Rangeman for all the equipment and the time it took to find that stupid projector."

Morelli smiled at that. "Will do."

They fell silent for a bit, looking at each other. It felt awkward for a moment; then he gave her a grin, one that told her they could be friends, and the awkwardness passed.

They hadn't even exited the car when three black Rangeman vehicles pulled up beside them. The Merry Men, Lula, and Grandma Mazur all bundled out.

"I thought you were going to take them home."

Lester, who's face was covered in petal pink lipstick, and who still looked a little dazed, scowled at Morelli. "You try telling either one of those women what to do."

Morelli sighed. "You have a point there."

"Come on!" Stephanie, impatient with the delay, ran up the ramp to the emergency room door. She was in such a hurry to get in that she didn't realize there was someone standing in the doorway. She bounced off of two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle.

"Sorry," Tank said. He helped her to her feet.

She couldn't help herself; she laughed. "Would you believe that I didn't see you there?"

"Tankie?" Lula came trotting up at the sound of her man's voice, but came a dead stop upon seeing his expression. "Oh my God - what's wrong?"

Stephanie looked up, and was shocked to see his face was completely ashen. Her laughter died on her lips. Her stomach rose, and lodged itself in her throat.

"Tank?" she whispered. She reached blindly behind her; Morelli instantly took her hand. She didn't see them, but she felt each one of Ranger's men immediately surround her.

Tank swallowed hard. "Ranger didn't make it."

--

**A/N** - All right, friends - let the backlash begin. Press the little button below to register your complaint. But first, a few friendly hints:

- I did not kill off Ranger just to piss any of you off, or to be mean - so if you take it personally, don't.

- You are welcome to leave negative comments if you like, but please, be respectful. Leave my morals and basic intelligence out of it.

I think that ought to do. I look forward to hearing from you. J.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N - **(ducks behind sofa to write in safety)

First off, my profound apologies for surprising/ angering most of you. When I first started writing this story, I had no idea Ranger was going to die. But when the idea came to me a few days ago, I knew this was how the story was meant to end. I'm sad that some people chose to give up on the story because of this (especially since this is the last chapter), but I understand how you feel - I don't like it when Ranger's dead either.

But with that said, let me make it up to you, shall I?

All the best to you, J.

--

He had just lost too much blood, Bobby told her later. The exit wound of the bullet had been large, and had bled much more than the entrance wound. Even if they had gotten to him sooner, chances were likely the outcome wouldn't have been any different.

That still didn't ease Stephanie's guilt much. If only she hadn't suggested he shoot out the window. If only he hadn't pushed her out of the way. Everyone knew she only ever got superficial bullet wounds – it probably wouldn't have been any different in this case.

If only she hadn't called him. If only.

She cried through the first day. By the second day, she settled into numbness. At the funeral, though, she started crying again. She supposed the service was nice, but through her tears, she didn't hear very much. Stephanie managed some semblance of control near the end, but when six of the Merry Men picked up Ranger's coffin and carried it down the aisle of the church, she lost it again.

At the cemetery, she buried her face in her father's jacket. She remembered how she had cried into Ranger's jacket that time they went to a funeral, looking for someone on one of her cases. He had laughed at her then, thinking it funny that she had become so emotional over the death of someone she didn't even know. She wished with all her might that he was holding her now; instead he was being placed into the ground.

It was Morelli who took her home, and tucked her into bed. "Do you want me to stay?"

"No. I just want to be alone." The last three days had been a nightmare; in addition to dealing with Ranger's death, Stephanie also had to put up with a slew of workmen and delivery people. Her home's entire electrical system had been destroyed, and had to be repaired; plus, every electrical appliance, right down to her razor, had to be inventoried and replaced. Tank had made sure everything was done quickly, to disturb her as little as possible. The last of it had been completed while she was at the funeral. She hadn't had a moment alone since Ranger had found her sleeping in her car.

She could tell he wasn't happy with this answer. "Are you sure you want to stay here?" he asked gently. "I mean, this is where it all happened."

"I'm fine here." Bella's house, once an uncomfortable place, now felt like a place of refuge. Stephanie had no plans to leave it anytime soon, no matter the bad memories it might have held.

Morelli did not look convinced. "You can stay at my place," he said. "I can move in with, uh..."

"No." She squeezed his hand briefly. "I'll be okay."

He kissed her cheek. "I'll send a pizza over for you later," he said. "Make sure you eat it."

"Okay."

"Hal's outside, if you need him."

She nodded. She always had a Merry Man on duty now, twenty-four/seven. Tank had told her that it was something Ranger had wanted – but she could tell that it was something they wanted to do as well. It had only been three days, and already it felt like she was suffocating.

She listened to Morelli's footsteps going slowly down her stairs. He paused in the front hall – she could imagine him standing there, looking like a pit boss in his suit, debating whether he should ignore her wishes, and stay anyway - but he left eventually.

It was quarter after three in the afternoon. Stephanie lay there, watching the numbers on her new digital clock change from one minute to the next. 3:16. 3:17. 3:18.

At 3:21, she sensed someone behind her, standing in her doorway after silently ascending her stairs. She sighed. "What is it, Hal?" she asked wearily.

There was an embarrassed shuffle. "Sorry, Ms. Plum; I didn't mean to wake you. Just wanted to see if you needed anything."

"I'm fine."

"Okay. I'm sorry." He retreated as silently as he came. He finished his sweep of the house, and at 3:23, she heard her front door open and close.

3:24. 3:25. 3:26. And on it went, minute after minute. The sun sank in the sky, and the room grew dark. The last few days, she had lain in complete darkness, not by choice, but because there hadn't been any light fixtures in this part of the house that worked. The numbers on the clock seemed awfully bright in comparison. She left the lights off.

The doorbell rang at six. She rose, and went down to answer, knowing there would be repercussions if she didn't. It was the pizza, hot and already paid for. She thanked the delivery man, went back inside, and slid half the pizza onto a plate. She took the plate and a beer out to Hal, who was sitting in a Rangeman truck. He thanked her; she smiled, and went back to bed, leaving the rest of the pizza untouched.

6:16. 6:17. 6:18.

At 7:47, she once again felt a presence behind her. The shift would have changed at seven; Hal would have gone home, and the new man – Bobby this time – would be making his rounds.

The presence lingered at her doorway for some time; through 7:48, and 7:49. At 7:50, Stephanie sighed impatiently. "What is it, Bobby?"

There was no answer.

She turned, and looked at the doorway. It was dark, and empty.

She turned back, and resumed her clock vigil. Only this time, she couldn't concentrate on the numbers. The presence was still there – but whenever she turned to look, she saw nothing.

The last number she remembered before falling asleep was 11:23. She woke up the next morning at 9:17. The scent of bacon and eggs assailed her nose. Lester was on duty in the mornings, and he always brought her breakfast. She guessed, now that her electrical was back up, he'd decided to cook for her.

She really wanted to stay in bed. But she crawled out, and went into the bathroom. She peed, took a shower, and brushed her teeth, doing everything mechanically. She went to the closet to get dressed, then went back to the bathroom. She bent over to get her hairdryer from under the sink. She plugged it in, and looked in the mirror.

Ranger stood behind her, just off her right shoulder.

She spun quickly, but there was no one there. Hesitantly, she looked back toward the mirror. The looking glass reflected him, as clear as day.

"Ranger?" Her voice trembled. She wasn't frightened, though seeing him so suddenly was a bit of a shock.

Ranger smiled at her, a full 200 watt smile. "Babe."

She felt tears spring to her eyes. "I - "

"I can't stay long." He saw her look of despair, and said quickly, "I'm still weak, after fighting Bella."

Her jaw dropped. "You're the one who - "

"Yeah – I kicked her out. It took a lot of energy. Even being here now, talking, is draining."

She laughed a bit hysterically. "I guess it's good that you don't talk much, huh?"

He smiled at that. "Love you, Babe."

She broke then. "Oh, Ranger! I'm so sorry! If I hadn't - "

"Babe, I can't stay much longer."

"No! Please! I'm sorry! Don't leave me!"

"I'm not going to leave you. But it takes energy, at least at first, but later..." He faded briefly from view; when he came back, he was scowling. "Keep the lights on," he said fiercely. And he disappeared.

"Ranger!" She turned around, just in case he was there, but he wasn't. She searched the mirror frantically, but there was no sign of him at all. She sobbed, and pounded the glass with her fists.

"Steph?" She jumped at the voice; it was Lester, peering warily into the bathroom. "You okay?"

"No!" And she fell into his arms, wailing.

She didn't tell Lester what she saw. She convinced herself that Ranger hadn't actually been there. If the others knew that she was hallucinating... They were worried for her enough already; the last thing she wanted was to be carted off to the loony bin. Or to have them look at her like she was crazy. Their sympathetic and pitying looks were already too much.

It was later, when she alone, lying in her bed and staring at her clock, that she started to reflect on what Ranger had said. He kept saying he needed energy. Energy for what?

Energy to be a ghost, perhaps?

She remembered how Ranger had speculated on the energy Bella needed to do all the things she did. Trashing the house, being corporeal, manipulating objects and creatures... It all would have taken lots of energy. Bella seemed to derive hers from their fear and her anger – at least she always seemed more powerful and scary at those times.

But if Ranger was the one responsible for getting Bella out of the house – and for repairing everything afterwards – it would have taken a great deal of energy, more than fear or any other emotion could have provided. So where did he get the energy to do all that?

_Electricity,_ she thought. _Electricity gives off a lot of energy._

She thought of the burnt out bulbs, the fried wire, and the broken appliances. She thought of how much electricity had been drawn through the house during those few strange minutes. It wasn't a power surge that had done it, not in the conventional sense. Something beyond her appliances had been drawing on the power, sucking it in, using it...

_Keep the lights on._ Suddenly Ranger's comment made sense.

She only had to turn the lights on in three of the rooms to allow Ranger to appear, but he needed more energy to talk. He followed her silently as she ran from room to room, turning on lights, radios, televisions. It was a little portable heater that did it. She found it came in handy too, since the air cooled significantly the more energy Ranger drew on.

And as it turned out, Ranger needed lots of energy, for he had a lot to say.

He wasn't angry that he was dead, and despite everything, he was glad he had been in Bella's house. Without seeing what Bella could do as a ghost, he never would have imagined that he too could do the same things, that it was even possible. But now that he knew...

He was fairly certain that, as time went by, he wouldn't need as much energy as he currently did, that his body would adjust, and become more efficient at using it. In the meantime, they would need to experiment. How much energy would it take to keep Ranger visible for an hour, or longer? How much to become corporeal, to manipulate objects, to touch her? Could he get energy from other sources, from emotions? Could he store energy, so Stephanie wouldn't have to sleep with all the lights and the television on? How far could he venture from the house? Could he rely on the sun for energy?

He had no doubts that one day, with practice, he could be just as powerful as Bella had been, maybe even more so. Powerful enough to manipulate things to his will. Powerful enough to be corporeal for hours and days on end, to give off the appearance of actually being alive. They could be lovers. He could be her protector, a much better protector than when he was alive; he had a freedom of movement and sight now that went far beyond human abilities and senses. It obviously excited him, she decided, for his face was filled with much more life now that it ever had been when he was alive.

It would take years, he cautioned, to achieve all that he hoped for; but he truly believed it was possible.

Never once did he ask her if she would be willing to put up with the chaos and frustrations that undoubtedly would follow them the next few months; nor did he ask her if this is what she wanted, to live out her life with a ghost by her side. He didn't need to ask. Because Stephanie believed it was possible too. So much so that she knew, once Ranger succeeded in controlling his abilities as a ghost, that they would be leaving Trenton, and the United States, and moving to a place where no one knew them, where he could walk the streets with her, looking for all the world like a human being to those who didn't know.

But what excited her the most was the thought of her own death. With Ranger there, to teach her and guide her, she could, for all intents and purposes, live forever. With Ranger.

A lifetime with Ranger would have been wonderful. But the prospect of an enterity with Ranger made her heart soar and her toes tingle.

No, he didn't need to ask. This was where he belonged. With her.

The next day, Stephanie had all the energy efficient appliances and light bulbs removed from her house, and replaced with energy sucking, environmentally unfriendly ones. She also bought more portable heaters and electric fireplaces, and two back-up generators. And to lessen the suspicions of her bodyguards, she bought thick, velvet curtains for every window of her house, worthy of Bella's decorating tastes. Thick enough to keep the glow of 100 watt bulbs trapped inside, where it belonged.

--

**A/N** – So I didn't quite acheive the 20,000 word mark. Maybe next time.

Well, folks, it's time for me to leave the world of fanfiction for awhile. I'm off to write a novel for National Novel Writing Month (50,000 words in one month? Is that all? Ha ha ha ha!). If there are any other NaNoWriMo's out there, feel free to drop me a message or tag me as a friend. I'm going to seriously focus on my original fiction – I'm interested to see where it will take me.

Thank you once again to all of you for reading, and for sending me your feedback. Your reviews and messages are a wonderful gift. I know this story was a bit different from the norm. I appreciate all of you who gave it a chance, and stuck with it. As always, since this is the end, I would appreciate hearing from you. What do you think of the story? A review or a PM would make my day.

Have fun with your own writing! All the best, J.


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